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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




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POEMS 



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BY 



DAVID ATWOOD WASSON 



" Beyond is all abyss, 
Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. 
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart, 
Greatly in peace of thought " 

Milton 



BOSTON 
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

10 Milk Street next Old South Meeting-House 
1888 







Copyright, 1887, 
By LEE AND SHEPARD. 

All rig/its reserved. 



PREFACE. 



Mr. Wasson's poems have long been known and 
greatly prized by many. From magazines and news- 
papers, some of them have found their way to choice 
collections of poems, like the "Parnassus" of Mr. 
Emerson. 

"All's Well" is a classic, and stands unrivalled in 
American poetry, for its exquisite beauty, its far-reaching 
spiritual insight, its depth of faith, its joy of hope. 

Yet thus scattered, the poems have received far less 
recognition than they deserve. Mr. Wasson was often 
urged to collect and publish them, and he evidently made 
some preparation for doing so ; but the hand of disease 
was always heavy upon him, and this task was left un- 
finished. By his will he confided it to me, and I have 
sought to cany it out according to his wishes. 

Many of the manuscript poems have not received his 
last careful touches, and frequent changes show how 
scrupulously he sought to give the best expression to his 



2 PREFACE. 

thought. But while he valued the graces of rhythm and 
the bea.ut}' of words, the deep thought and the vivid 
imagery came first to his mind ; and it is not strange that 
we sometimes find a defective line or a rough form. I 
have not ventured to change any thing, however ; believ- 
ing that all readers would rather come close to his thought 
by a rugged wa} T , than miss it by a smooth one. 

I have sometimes given a name to a poem for con- 
venience of reference. 

The poems naturally arrange themselves in three 
groups. First are three long poems. The " Orpheus " 
reproduces the classic myths, to indicate retribution for 
that faithlessness which looks backward instead of for- 
ward. It has never been published before. 

" The Confession" was published in " The Radical." 
How far it reveals a personal experience, is unknown ; 
but it tells how the recognition of the highest human 
ideal, through love, changes the whole of life, from doubt 
and evil to faith and joy. 

"The Babes of God," as it seemed obvious to name it, 
is the most striking and important of these poems. It 
was written in early manhood, when life was full of hard, 
problems, both mental and practical. It was partly 
written, laid aside, and again resumed; but he never 
published it, or completed the copy he had begun. But 



PREFACE. 3 

there is no doubt that it was the poem which he hoped 
would express to others the height and depth of his 
thought. It is metaphysical, and we may trace in it the 
doctrines of various schools of thought which he had 
made his own ; but it is far more a glowing, imaginative 
conception, which takes hold of the realities of permanent 
life with a vividness which we cannot hesitate to com- 
pare with that of Milton's masterpiece. His admiration 
of Milton spurred him in his task of presenting a deeper 
solution of the great problem of evil than that of the 
popular Church. 

The poem is unequal in expression and execution, but 
the height and unity of conception are held throughout. 
We see the blessed spirits treading the ether, and listen 
to their high converse, as, awestruck, but with undaunted 
courage, they go voluntarily to meet the vast cloud of 
evil and struggle which looms up dark and fearful over 
the horizon of infinity. But the "Babes of God" are 
already human : we recognize in them relation and indi- 
viduality ; and we cannot help thinking, that, in the 
younger spirit, he had in thought the poet and philosopher, 
who, dwelling familiarly among us, yet never seemed to 
have lost the atmosphere of his immortal home. 

The sonnets touch on many and varied themes. Some 
of these show his deep interest in the struggle of the 



4 PREFACE. 

civil war. On all historical and political questions, Mr. 
Wasson thought deeply and felt keenly ; and he did not 
stint his expressions of confidence, scorn, or indignation. 
He was utterly true and thoroughly brave. Differences 
of opinion were never withheld, but they never stood 
in the way of tender and trusting relations with his 
friends. 

In some of the sonnets and in the other poems, we are 
interested in the revelations of his own nature and history. 
The ; ' Sanded Floor" preserves the child's precious, only 
memory of the mother too early lost ; and the poems to 
" Our Only " reveal the joy and pride of the father's 
heart. 

His exquisite delight in Nature is most plainly shown. 
Nature was full of spirit to him. His special thought 
of life was the growth from within. It is the inward 
which forms the outward. Of the " heart-lit sages," 
he says, — 

" These spirits all are lucent from the centre." 

So the principle of evolution was to him a spiritual fact, 
perpetually revealing itself in eveiy beautiful, changing 
phase of outward form. 

But the most remarkable trait of these poems is their 
glorious optimism. His plummet can sound the depths 



PREFACE. 

of sin and evil, but it always finds their limitation. 
While the notes of joy or sorrow are sounding, the 
eternal eye, of which 

" Old Night is but the iris dark," 

is ever vigilant. 

" All's Well " might seem to be the joyous strain of a 
heart which had known nothing but earth's highest happi- 
ness ; but in truth it was the song of a suffering invalid, 
who had almost exhausted the capacity of the human 
body to bear anguish and pain. How keenly he felt 
them, is shown in two lines of " The Babes of God," — 

" Mad thrills ran riot through the black 
Like crazy spasms of sick nerves in men." 

This poem is the triumph of the spirit, the spirit to 
which " ultimate is present good." This spirit has 
given to his words power to strengthen the suffering, and 
comfort the despairing. 

While the re-action from excitement, on his sensitive 
nerves, often produced the most intense dejection, this 
mood hardly appears in his poetry : mental activity drove 
away the fiend, and he rose to that height of contempla- 
tion where he saw that " all was good." 

Even when blindness closed in upon his life, it did not 



6 PREFACE. 

darken his soul, but only deepened his love and gratitude 
to those who were i; eyes to the blind." The sonnet to 
C. W. H. reveals how truly he was ministered unto in 
this trial. 

I will not dwell upon the story of his life. We wait 
for it from the pen of one whose clear intellect and 
unbiassed judgment will give us the living picture of him, 
even as he was. But this much seemed needful to give 
the reader a position from which he could rightly read the 
meaning of these poems, — the genuine expression of a 
great and beautiful soul. 

Like the drawings of a great master, they draw us 

nearer to him than the scholarly essays which have given 

him his position as one of the greatest thinkers of our 

time. 

E. D. C. 

Jamaica Plain, 1887. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Orpheus 11 

The Babes of God 21 

The Confession 56 

SONNETS. 

To a Theological Opponent 72 

Time's Household . . 73 

Gkeat Love 74 

Expression 75 

To our Only : 

I. Night 76 

II. Morning 77 

Love against Love 78 

To G. L. S 79 

Pride 80 

7 



8 CONTEJVTb. 

PAGE 

Natural Selection 81 

Royalty 82 

Defiance 83 

To the Fifty-Fourth Regt. Mass. Vols 84 

To President Johnson : 

1 85 

II 86 

To Charles Sumner ..... 87 

To William II. Seward 88 

Peace. To J. G. \V 89 

Doom 90 

Happiness 91 

Deliverance. To Fremont : 

I 92 

II 93 

Delusion 94 

To 95 

To Irish-born Americans 97 

To Mrs. C. W. H 98 

Surcease 99 

O'er the Sanded Floor .100 

Lost 102 

The Bride 103 

Give me Rest 105 



CONTENTS. 9 

PAGE 

Phcebus-Carlyle and Addison's Ghost ; or, Apology 
for a eugged style : 

I. Addison's Ghost admires and expostulates . 106 

II. Phozbus-Carlyle explains 107 

Shireen and the Bee 108 

To Death 110 

Noontide 112 

The Revival Preacher 116 

Nature's Tune 118 

To 119 

May 120 

The Sun 121 

Geordie naius, Aug. 27, 1855 123 

All's Weli 124 

Joy-Month 12S 

Seen and Unseen . . . . * 130 

The Mystic : 

I. Knowledge 134 

II. Life 137 

The Floods. In Memory of John Brown 139 

Volunteer Song. Inscribed to the Twenty-Fifth 

Regiment M.V 142 

To General 146 

In Memory of Dr. S. F. Haven 147 



10 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Ideals 149 

The Plover : 

I. 151 

II 153 

Scipio to the Senate 155 

Time : 

I. From Below 158 

II. From Above 158 

To W. L. G. 159 

NOTES . 161 



POEMS. 



ORPHEUS. 

I did but turn a moment ere I knew, 

For she, my queen, my lost Eurydice, 

Moved like a zephyr, as it was her wont ; 

And her light footfall, light as lids of sleep 

Sinking on eyes that woo them to the close, 

Scarce gave me token, as I went before, 

That she still followed. So it was that once, 

E'en while I chid my heart for beating, and my breath 

Hated that 'twould not hush, the sound, too soft, 

Passed not my booming breast, nor reached the ear 

Where all my longing soul sat listener. 

Then, like a plummet from a ship, went down 

My heart in seas of grief ; and Love, too quick 

For quickest interception, leapt to stay 

His anguish with a look. Scarce was it I, 

My very self, that did it ; but as when, 

With sudden blaze of light, the eyelid falls 



12 ORPHEUS. 

Unbidden ere a thought or wish could stir, 
So went my glances backward ere I knew. 
Light fault, though fault it were, to be avenged 
With grief so heavy ! But the gods deny 
Their favor cunningly ; for they delight 
With countenance of grace to be unkind, 
That of his harshest fortune man may seem 
Himself inventor, though it be their will. 

What syllables are these that hiss from lips 

Ere while not thus profaned, to brave the gods 

With accusation false and forged excuse I 

Wiry did I hearken ? For his word was passed, — 

Great Pluto's word ; for he had said, " Thy spouse, 

Eurydice, shall follow, if so be 

Thou turnest not." And I, because a doubt 

Murmured incessant in my breast, to do 

His truth dishonor, went but with the face 

Set forward ; while my thought, suspecting still, 

Spied ever backward, and in pale distrust 

Its question urged, Doth he, a supreme god, 

Doth he preserve his promise ? Coward soul, 

It was thyself, thyself, that wrought thy woe, 

Not undeserved. The gods will greatly give, 

But greatness in the taking can alone 



ORPHEUS. 13 

Their gift make good- Yet thou wouldst take, and still 

Suspect the giver, and his bounty fell 

With ill receiving, that the giving shamed. 

All happy fortune is for credent souls, 

That, when the gates of opportunity 

Stand open, enter, and look not behind. 

But thou wouldst enter doubting ; and thy doubt 

Were as a sword to smite with felon edge 

Against that sacred bond that earth and heaven, 

The manifold of things, in union holds. 

For by the truth of gods the living all 

Abides in peace ; fixed in a faith eterne, 

The stars do keep their places, and the sun 

Hath confidence to run with radiant wheel 

His mighty course. And oft in happier times 

Sang I the truth of the immortals, sure 

Forever ; sang, and bade the social woods, 

The conscious streams, and far resounding sea, 

With man, whose breast the muse inhabits, join 

To hymn in chorus through the world the word 

That still through changing seasons and new times, 

Through all the fluctuant to-and-fro of things, 

Vex of events and turns of fortune, holds 

Unbroken, and with its own sureness threads 

The various all, to make it one and same. 



14 ORPHEUS. 

Ah, when I turned me toward Euiydice, 
Not her alone I lost, but from the Muse 
Myself averted, to be twice bereaved ! 
I sang no more, unworthy, and no more. 

Yet wherefore do I lie against myself? 

Basest and falsest 'mid the false is he, 

That, coward-prone, the deed he has not done 

Confesses, scared by seeming and the bark 

Of evil fortunes. Thou Olympian, from 

Whose loins I issue, has thy hand no bolt 

To scathe this caitiff conscience wherewithal, 

This traitor conscience, borrowed from the event, 

Fate's servile echo, that the suffering cause, 

Holy in weakness, flies ? Yet wherefore cry 

To Heaven ? 'Tis the trick of craven souls 

To vex the gods with importunity, 

Entreating boons the base petitioner 

But from himself should seek. The gods love them 

That even against the gods, should there be need, 

Dare stand erect, and to themselves be just, 

As I will dare. Down, lust of penitence ! 

Thou hypocrite contrition, hold thy peace, 

Nor clamor more to flatter Fate, and shame 

Truth slandered and oppressed. What mortal might, 



orpiieus. 15 

That did I. For 'tis not in man to guide 
His steps supremely ; for his firmest will 
Is as a helm, whereto the bark, amid 
Whirlpools and warring tides, not always turns 
Obedient. But to the god I pledged, 
In perfect credence, thought and purpose, all. 
And though I turned, was that my proper deed 
Whereof, alas, I knew not ere 'twas done ? 

They that made man, made error fleet of foot, 
But judgment slow ; yet hold it vain excuse 
That guardian judgment with stretched sinew strove, 
And came too late. The seeming deed, endured, 
Not done of will, is weighed, the balance turns. 
Have, then, the eternal gods eye but to see 
The outmost shell of things, the wraps and veils 
That Truth must wear to hide her very face 
From silly gazers ? Ear have they to hear 
The loud event, but not the voice that speaks 
With soft and supreme eloquence in faith 
And purpose deep as life ? Oh, I could blush 
For them above me, though their power be great ! 
For they, they are not blinded ; not to them, 
The all-seeing, shows, as to a mortal, show 
Alone, their seeming, that indeed may be, 



16 ORPHEUS. 

Or not be, what it seems. The sceptred gods 

Are perfected with knowledge ; never they 

Unguided grope, lured on by blind surmise, 

Nor share through tedious times the dull, slow creep 

Of half-eyed inference, that, creeping, spins 

Its thread of ignorance and knowledge mixed, 

And learnedly at length concludes amiss, 

The gods, not we, have knowledge. Ah, to see 

Motive and purpose, all, and yet to judge 

Blindly the apparent act ! My lot is mine ; 

I will not lie to say it is my meed. 

Alas, and yet I doubt ! For I am one 

By birth selected, and set forth to be 

More than mere mortal. Father Zeus, thy blood 

It is within my veins, that, conscious, through 

The hard-lipped feature of my self-excuse 

Blushes a shamed confession. For 'twas thou, 

Eternal unity and life in all, — 

Conjoint with Memory, that has the care 

Of finite things, — who gav'st me ancestry ; 

And in my heart the mingling blood of both 

Wrought into tuneful oneness truth eterne 

And truth of time. The lyre is dumb, the words 

Lie dead upon my lips, and I am judged. 



ORPHEUS. 17 

Oh, either way defeated ! If t be true 

The gods do evil, what of good remains 

Unsullied, what of pure in earth or heaven ? 

For their dishonor wraps in infamy 

The heights they dwell on, and the earth beneath, 

With all it holds. But if their will divine 

Be perfect, my excuse, though strongly urged, 

Itself were inexcusable. Behold, 

I know not, but I bow and cease dispute ; 

And if there be a doubt, against myself 

I here resolve it, lifting all my pride 

To plant it there above. Let Honor have 

No death-bed, nor with me — a mortal — live ; 

Only with me to close the lid at last, 

And sleep in darkness. Let its home be there, 

Where death, unprivileged, and mortal change 

Pass not the portal, but immortal life 

Tops the wide world, in glory summited. 

Sweet unreturning days, so near, so far, — 

Days of the gods, when with Eurydice, 

In holy calm, beneath the oak I sat, 

And told by sounding lyre and mounting word 

What faith melodious sums the hurtless whole, 

Hymned in the harmony of earth and heaven. 



18 ORPHEUS. 

For what I sang, that was I ; and my soul 
Uttered itself in song, as fire in flame. 
Then Memory, mine ancestress, bestowed 
Her favor; and the storied truth of time 
Came winging to my service, glad to bring 
Its golden treasure. But a richer wealth 
Was given; for Zeus lived in me, and his life 
Gushed in the melody, and gave it soul. 
For in my heart the everliving One 
Espoused the varying and eventful world 
With kisses and sweet compact, and the whole 
Was tuned and moulded unto perfect law. 
And ever 'twas of this I sang, — the law 
That all contains, and makes of many one ; 
But makes them one in featured severalty, 
Giving to each his own, and unto each 
Alliance of the ever-perfect whole. 

Then how the tribes came trooping, by that word, 
The sacred, sovereign name of Law, allured ! 
And, touched with its persuasion, they became 
A living music ; and their tuneful steps 
Mingled in measure of the rounded dance, 
Till each, ensphered within himself, was framed 
To spheral fellowship, attuned with all. 



on p he us. 19 

Ah ! but one fatal jar shook out of tune 
The instrument ; one doubt unconscious 'gainst 
The faith that erst my soul to music set 
Hath all unstrung ; and I, a shattered lyre, 
But echo to the shock that wrought me woe. 

And now, behold, these Thracian women come, 
Craving my hand in marriage ; for they say 
That now, as of the dust, I should receive 
Its sordid solace, therewith comforted, 
And bliss that was, and pain that is, forget. 
And they will give me plenitude of love 
And duty to my wish, with home and friends 
And days of pleasure, if my heart but heed 
Their hearts' desire, and take the spousal bond. 
But I will not. The wine of gods is spilled, — 
Is spilled, alas, forever, from my cup ! 
But never, by a baser draught profaned, 
Shall it ascend to meet and shame my lips, 
Howe'er they thirst. Since only in despair 
I may be true to birth and blood divine, 
Let it have welcome ; be despair my hope 
And heart's content. Delight is mine no more ; 
But better than delight remains, — a heart 
Abiding in its light without reward. 



20 ORPHEUS. 

I hear them come, the raving rout, insane 
To wreak their foam-lipped vengeance on my slight 
And, burdened with my blood, swift Hebrus soon 
Will run in sorrow. But I will not change. 

Oh, exquisite surprise of happiness ! 
The Muse descends to grace again her son. 
Once more for me the sacred ecstasy, 
Once more the contemplation infinite 
Divine beholding, truth compelling truth, 
Proportion everywhere, and measured line ; 
All motion rounds, returns, with meted lines, 
Permitted sally, and melodious close. 
Arise, then, silent lyre ; discourse anew. 
Yea, it awakens, joyous to the touch ; 
And as I freely sweep it, all that was 
Or is or shall be, all the vast of earth 
And heaven, to the ringing brim of space 
Voices itself in music on the string, 
And I am blessed among the blessed gods, 
That seem the cosmic whole in harmony. 

Smite as ye list, ye rude hands, hard as flint : 
Pain is no longer ; pain and death are gone, 
And changing times. Ever the whole is whole, 
The one and all, the singer and the song. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 21 



THE BABES OF GOD. 



Book E 



Of old was in the household of the One 
A troop of babes immortal, on this wise 
Created : when the Omniscient, looking, saw 
That universe by which he publisheth 
His thought, and, in his view concluding all, 
Beheld his thought in all, the unity 
Of truth eternal, — rose beneath his brows 
A smile, that answered to his truth in one 
Regarded, uttering the supernal joy 
Of Godhood in its thought to truth matured ; 
And in the virtue of that smile a life 
Began to be. The sweetness in his eye 
Went from him, gathering to a glorious cloud ; 
And in that cloud a soul was cradled, which, 
A miracle of beauty, rose at length, 
And walked and worshipped, — an immortal child. 
Lived in this loveliness, its ancestry ; 
Lived the significance of that delight 



22 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Which kindled it to life, — joy in God's truth, 

Joy of intelligence in total truth. 

This made it vital, gave it heavenly grace. 

Once in each day of heaven the One beheld 
His thought, and in the recognition smiled, 
And in the virtue of that smile begat 
A blooming soul. And now the beauteous troop 
With marvellous laughter filled the house of God, 
And gave him back his joy a thousand times. 
And when the stars of heaven were out, they all 
Laid at his feet their shining comeliness, 
And slept the sleep of those upon whose lids, 
And underneath them, is the peace of God. 
And when upon a night that brought no gloom, 
Followed a dawning that would bring no glare, 
Waking their beauty, went these Joys of God 
In chariots of his eye-beams, to career 
Through the sweet kingdoms of the blessed ; each 
Renewing still the mystery of his birth, 
Beholding truth, — how happy in the sight ! 
So was it for a thousand years of heaven. 

But when a thousand years of heaven were gone, 
There came a day whereon the eldest born 
Looked on the truth, and felt within his heart 
A want, and 'mid his great felicity 



THE BABES OF GOB. 23 

Sighed. Never until then a sigh was heard 

In heaven. Not the down upon the wings 

Of butterflies had floated on that sigh, 

So light, so inward, breathed but in a thought, 

Nor guessed of by the outward air ; yet all 

The troop immortal heard it, trembled all 

In hearing ; then around their brother flocked, 

And cried, " O brother, brother! " — in their eyes 

A nameless question that they could not shape. 

And he : " I know not, brothers, what it is ; 
And yet it is, — a want amid my bliss, 
Some want amid this plenitude of bliss." 

Thereon the youngest, whose two eyes were like 
Two morning stars set in the silver front 
Of dawn, a bird-like voice uplifted clear, 
And carolled, " Brothers, I am full of joy. 
Oh, as a fountain flowing to a stream 
That grows a river, bearing argosies, 
And watering kingdoms, so to me my heart 
Within me ! Yet in vision I behold 
That which my bosom may not feel. I know 
There is for us a destiny bej'ond 
This blessedness, — a blessedness more deep, 
More grand. How sweet, how awful in its depth ! 
I see, moreover, with ray eye, not feel 



24 TUE BABES OF GOD. 

In heart, that, ere we come to that estate, 

We travel through the realms of toil and pain." 

Whereat they shuddered, though they knew not 
why : 
"And what is toil? And tell us what is pain?" 
Pleaded that audience, hanging on his words. 

" I cannot tell, I do not wholly know," 

He answered ; " yet against the wish it is. 

But why the question ? 'Tis enough to know 

There is a higher than this high, a bliss 

Beyond the exceeding blessedness we have, 

Action more worthy, duty nobler, life 

More godlike, more significant. To this 

Our choices must be lifted, let the road 

That leadeth to it be rough or smooth, be long 

Or short, or what it may." And all said, " Yes." 

With instant unison, in silver chime, 

They warbled, " Yes, we do elect the best, 

Let be the journey thither what it may. 

Who chooseth not the perfect, chooseth base : 

For good is bad, to better good preferred : 

And truth is falsehood, when diviner truth 

Wins not the heart, though seen." And one went on 



THE BABES OF GOD. 25 

Declaring, " Should a soul that had pursued 
The perfect for a thousand aeons, then 
Refuse an excellence beyond, of will 
Refuse one shade, one tint or touch of truth 
And excellence more perfect, he would fall, 
That moment fall, from his celestial height 
Plumb to the nadir." And all murmured, " Yes." 

And then the eldest born : " There is a grove 
Near by the splendor of the One ; and there 
Daily a company of wisest spirits, 
Majestic, meek, and sage, unite their hearts. 
Wondrous in aspect they, for in their looks 
Immortal age, immortal youth, become 
The same, — one glory, greatness, grace divine, 
As if their youth gave wisdom, years gave bloom. 
The locks that ripple round their brows, or down 
The neck, have but the hue of whitest light : 
As light unto a texture wrought they seem, 
Flowing about a face that still outshines it. 

These spirits all are lucent from the centre ; 
The perfect truth of God from out their hearts 
Streams in immortal flame, — through eye, from lip 
And brow, by all the effluence of the life. 
Daily they meet and multiply their truth 



26 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Unto each other : by their presence, by 
The art, the eloquence of words, by arts 
Of many marvellous kinds, they represent 
Truth in its beauty, beauty in its good, 
The thought of God in all its pure consent. 
In grandest gladness so they live and work. 
Let us go to them, pray enlightening." 

And one responded, in whose brooding eyes 
Thought sat at feast perpetual : " Let us go. 
These heart-lit sages I have also seen ; 
Have bowed before their high divinity. 
Nothing to them is either young or old, 
Or small or great. Existence they regard 
With equal, yet how reverential, eyes, — 
The fellow of a grass-blade, of a sphere 
The fellow. They in the kingdom of the all 
Are named ' The Peers.' Eternity is where 
They are ; for their ' To-day ' is absolute, 
Crowned with the grace of immortality. 
And also I have noted wherein lies 
Their eminence, so far exceeding ours. 
For they are fountains of the truth eterne : 
We are but mirrors. In our hearts, I know, 
Full surely know, the truth of God is globed : 



THE BABES OF GOD. 27 

The virtue of our birth so far avails ; 

Aud hence that ecstasy when on the truth 

Our visions turn. "lis globed, not kindled yet. 

The lamp is ready ; now we wait the fire. 

And when the lamp is lighted, then the truth 

Shall stream in us, in us create itself 

Forever, and in us the mystery 

Of the beginning and the end will roll 

Its perfect circle evermore. For this, 

This is the secret of the all, — in each 

Perfected life the whole is new created, 

In every moment is create anew 

Perpetual, myriad fold ; creation runs, 

Renews, and multiplies itself for aye. 

The lamp of the Beginning waits to burn 

In every breast. Whence may we bring the fire ? 

But they, the clear, majestic Masters whom 

We seek, they know ; for they possess. Their eyes 

Are not mere rooms to which the truth may come 

And sit and give them honor, but are halls 

Where king meets king with level greeting : one 

From either door they enter, join their hands, 

And give majestic welcome ; Avhile the grace 

Of either streams anew, yet more divine. 

They are the truth divinely published, they 



28 THE BABES OF GOD. 

The living missals of the One : we are 
But readers of a page already writ." 
And then they all in chorus : " Let us go, 
And learn how life may run its perfect course." 

Through the sweet air with gentle zeal they went, 
And, coming to the grove, beheld the Peers, 
Calm and majestic : not a star so strong 
To run upon its orbit, as their hearts 
To live, achieve, and have divine repose 
Amid achieving ; not the evening star 
So tender in its beaming, as their hearts 
In love. And they who looked upon them saw, 
From brain and bosom, stream, in many forms, 
In many colored marvellous effluence 
Of light, the meaning of the universe, 
Begotten evermore within the breast, 
And evermore by deed, word, look, evolved. 
Here, smitten by a blessed awe, they stayed 
The step, and beautiful in silence stood. 

Then one of that majestic company 
Rose, went benignly, and with such a smile 
As summer skies bestow on summer fields, 
Said, " Glorious Babes of God, your errand here 
Is known ere spoken; for your time is come. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 29 

Know then, ye beautiful, that only 'mid 
The darkness, where the Night her sceptre holds, 
Shall first your inward lamp be lighted : there 
Stumbling through gloom, in sorrow, ye shall seek 
To your own hearts for guidance ; ye shall cry, 
k O Heart, O Heart ! The way ? where is the way ? ' 
And with your seeking, it shall grow to flame, 
And answer your desire. For life, divine ones, 
Life answers unto need, — brings out its wealth 
But when occasion calls : where is no need, 
Is no producing. All beginnings, all, 
Through all the universe, obtain their truth 
From the same mother-birth from sacred Need. 

Now, therefore, must ye enter on a state 
Where limitation shall surround you, press 
Upon you, seek to make you all its own. 
Darkness, the limitation of the eye ; 
Hindrance, the limitation of the will ; 
False promptings, blind misleadings, partial lights, 
Pain, pleasure, all the sense of self, — these all, 
And all the arms of all the elements, 
Shall clasp your spirits in their wild embrace, 
And seek a victory o'er the God in you. 
And while you struggle, while you vindicate 
Celestial lineage, Virtue will begin, 



30 TIIE BABES OF GOD. 

Of Godhood and of Limitation born, — 

Virtue, the marvel of the universe, 

Created in the heart : not light, not truth 

Alone ; but truth to force, to life, sublimed, 

Vital, creative, infinite in worth, 

The very secret of the heart of God, 

Established in another centre, — there 

Begotten in its perfect mystery, 

And syllabled in full significance. 

And all the stars with eye and ear entranced 

Look on to see the eternal miracle, 

And bend to hear the all-enrapturing rune." 

He ended with a look such as had been 
Compassionate, save that it went so far, 
And over-leaping pity, found content 
In foresight of that fruit of destiny, 
Divinely sweet, wherein its purpose rounds. 
As looks the sower on his scattered seed 
That soon dark earth will cover, and beholds 
In fancy, not the burial near at hand, 
But spiring wheat-blades, yellowing ears, ripe sheaves, 
And harvest-homes, full barns and garners rich, 
And rosy, hungry children at the board 
Well cheered : so did the heavenly sage beyond 
Immediate pain discern the immortal good. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 31 

Then all the troop with sweetest reverence 
Murmured him thanks, that lingered on the lip, 
And melted into silence, eloquent 
Of homage ; so withdrew in sober muse, 
Yet sure of heart. As one in revery goes, 
That hastening to a ship will sail at once 
For lands beyond the line ; his eager will 
Before him runs, anticipates his steps, 
And is already spreading canvas, o'er 
The sea careering, running down the trades, 
Far shores descrying : but beside his hearth 
In love and fancy yet he lingers, there 
Kisses his babes, and takes them on his knee, 
And folds them to his heart ; a sweet regret 
Fills all his bosom, but his clear resolve 
Not weakens, nor his firm and cheerful stride 
Robs of alacrity : so pensive they, 
Pensive and pondering greatly, yet undimmed 
In heart and will, and with a cheerful speed, 
Bore through the luminous air their angel blooms, 
Their looks of love seraphic and great hope, 
Until they came before the One, and stood. 
There they a space were silent, not through fear, 
But for a time, of special wish or plan 
All blessedly beguiled, so flooded them 



32 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Joy of that presence and divine content : 
Then, as at eventide day fades from heaven, 
And twilight, sweet and sober, follows on, 
And through the twilight look the growing stars, 
Yet growing, so about their faces fell 
Shadows of meditation, and through these 
Shone slowly out their new-born purposes. 
And then the eldest, slight advancing, raised 
A reverent cry, and speaking, poured his prayer : 

" O Father, let us go ; for we abide 
In a mere infancy, although divine, 
Till we come victors through the realm of Night, 
Till we through shrouds of elemental force 
Push the persuasion of our purest life. 
Sweet to lie thus in the lap of heaven ; 
But better far the founts of heaven to feed, 
Be factors of the truth our eyes behold. 
Service we know is highest ; and we seek 
The worth of ministry, the comeliness 
Of use. Suns would we be, not merely moons, 
And in, our hearts would hold the mystery 
Of thy begotten light ; nor shine, as now, 
Only as shined upon, not luminous. 
Noblest it is to serve, we know, nor aught 
Beside ennobling ; growth and use are wed 



THE BABES OF GOD. 33 

In thine appointment perfect. We would grow ; 
Mightier would be to reproduce thy thought, 
Larger would be as vessels of thy love. 
O Father, let us go ; let us fulfil 
The largest, deepest destiny of life, 
And, floating on the tides of thine intent, 
Come with thy rounding purpose unto fruit, 
And ripen with a ripening universe." 

And he : " Not wholly know my babes, my joys, 
Fruits of my heart, the scope of their desire ; 
For awful are the blisses of a God, 
And deep the glooms, and fearful, where have root 
The cosmic harvests, that shall fill the skies 
With golden plenty and eternal gloom. 
Yet go, my babes, fulfil your destiny. 
With me a thousand years are as one day, 
And ultimate is present good. Go forth." 

They went, and felt his love lie on them warm 
In going, and were gladdened in their hearts. 
Soon forth into the spaces pure they fared ; 
While underneath their feet the ether spread 
Ineffable support, sufficing for 
Their airy tread as roads of adamant 



34 THE BABES OF GOD. 

For mortal weight. And ever as they beat 

With rhythmic footfall on the viewless floor, 

Replied a silver resonance of tone 

Purer than purest chime of vesper bells ; 

Waves of melodious cheer, arising, ran 

Into the dying distance, till they broke 

With tender fall on crystal shores afar ; 

And all the bosom of immensity 

Thrilled like a virgin's, hearing vows of love 

Breathed from the lips that bear her destiny. 

Then they, with voices yet diviner, sang, — 

Sang of the bond of unity that all 

Begirds, — zenith and nadir ; heaven and hell ; 

Peace, war ; and love and wrath ; and burning prayer 

And icy mockery ; desire that soars, 

Desire that dens and dives, — encircles all, 

And binds of all the sheaf immortal, good 

Beyond the name of goodness ; sang the Eye 

Of which Old Night is but the iris dark, 

Whose seeing is the living universe, 

In the act of sight created ; sang the Heart, 

Whose throbs are avatars ; sang Destiny, 

Seething in fire at centre of a world, 

To ripen continents, green hills and vales, 

And cities, and the graces of a life 



THE BABES OF GOD. 35 

Intelligent upon its breast ; sang Good 

That still implies, and still consumes, the bad, 

As on dark fuel feeds the shining flame. 

Singing they journeyed ; and through all the deep, 

Responsive to their joyance, every star 

Beat like a pulse in throbs of sweeter light. 

As bees that fly from flowers home to the hive, 
All honey-laden, so from fragrant lips 
Their tuneful testimonies flew, flew home, 
And stored their preciousness in that great breast, 
That hives the honey of the universe, 
And feeds their hunger who his garner fill. 

Book Iff. 

Far through the ethereal spaces, silver clear, 
The course of those immortal babes of God, 
Seraphic song-birds of the universe, — 
So soon the burden of a universe 
In sterner sense to bear, — had stretched away ; 
For they with speed had gone, though with a speed 
So pure of pain and labor, blended so 
With their hilarity, it seemed repose, 
And lost the name of swiftness. Sweet their song, 
And sweet the thoughts that nestled in their hearts, 



36 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Piping fine echoes through their bosoms blest ; 
And sweet the ecstasy that rapt them all 
Into a heavenly forgetfulness 
Of past and future, fortune, time, and change. 
They knew but Being, — Being and its bloom, 
That Beauty is ; and Good that is its end ; 
And Love its impulse, and its order Truth. 
Being they saw, and seeing it divine, 
Adorable in clivineness, poured in song 
Ecstatic recognition, unaware 
Of all but God without and God within, — 
Love, Beauty, Good, and Truth, and Joy, 
Around, above, beneath, and in their souls. 

Now, one among the foremost, looking up 
By chance, with horror saw, in farthest sky 
Fronting their course, a troublous film of cloud, — 
A strange, dark, troublous, ominous film of cloud, — 
Blearing the beauty of the crystal wall. 
His song upon his lip froze at the sight ; 
And, hardly gaining breath, he shivered out 
A cry, with pointed finger, " Lo, the cloud ! " 
And, " Lo, the cloud ! the cloud ! " they all, — at once 
The song suspending. With the song their feet 
Stopped, and were still, chained to the place, the 
while 



THE BABES OF GOD. 37 

Their eyes questioned the omen. Far away 

To either side, beyond all vision, stretched 

The brooding blackness. Far away, this way 

And that, to visions bound, their eyes pursued, 

And asked, and asked what was the portent ; had 

Small answer, yet more answer than they wished. 

Too well they knew it signified the term 

Of that sweet infant life, that life of birds 

And flowers, of bloom and song and careless ease. 

Nor did their foresight of the fact avail 

To cushion it more softly on their hearts 

In aspect ; for the mightiest verities 

Of all experience, however oft 

Fancy anticipate them, howe'er well 

Depict their image, prove in the event 

Surprises, — smite the soul with shock of newness, 

That makes expectancy forgotten quite. 

Awhile the immortals stood, hushed as the grave, — ■ 
Hushed like a man, that, on his marriage morn, 
Goes forth in trance of happy thoughts, to meet 
His waiting bride ; sudden a hollow voice 
Startles him ; he looks up, and sees a face 
Whose rigid lines possess a thousand tongues 
To say, " Thy bride is dead." He looks, and reads 
At once the blotting of his bliss, yet looks 



38 THE BABES OF GOD. 

And tries to spell the letters otherwise ; 

But, striving thus to unread, reads, " Thy bride is 

dead, 
Thy bliss is blotted out." So did they gaze 
On this apparent grave of all their bliss, 
This sudden-yawning sepulchre of heaven. 

Then one with tender eyes, in tender tones 
That quivered forth in silver softness, like 
The sifted sunbeams that through trembling leaves 
Fall trembling, chanting, spoke the thought of all, — 
" Peace, peace no more, no more. The dreams of 

heaven, 
The days and reveries and toilless tasks 
Of heaven, now no more. O beautiful past, 
Forever past ! O youth, O joy, O joy 
Of youth immortal, laughters infinite, 
Pure youth and gladness of the gods, farewell ! 
The black days come, the days that darken night, 
The nights that dim the stars. Sweet peace, sweet 

heaven, 
Celestial days and dreams, but memories now ; 
And with your memories mingles that refrain, 
New to our hearing, ' Nevermore.' " 

Then all, 
With sudden impulse, turned the shining face, 



THE BABES OF GOD. 39 

And o'er the way their steps had traversed bent, 

Bent all as one, eyes of untold regret, 

Moist eyes of silent, infinite regret, 

Remembering all the things that were — that were ; 

And as in days of boundless summer calm, 

Of calm through earth and sky, 'mid the high tops 

Of silent pines the sleeping air half wakes, 

And breathes among the boughs a dream of sound, 

So low, so subtle, mystical, that it gives 

A soul to silence, eloquence to calm, 

So came, as they stood gazing, o'er their lips, 

In mystic, murmurous echoes, " Nevermore." 

At once their eyes grew flame, their lips were iron ; 
And they, red shame and anger on their cheeks, — 
" Are we but babes indeed? and do we quail 
In coward weakness, when the destinies 
We sought for meet us, honoring our guest?" 
And, with the self-accusing word, they turned ; 
Dauntless in aspect, and with vigorous foot, 
But now in silence, kept their onward way. 

Higher and deeper reached, and denser grew, 
With their advance, the cloudy portent ; dense, 
And dark and darker, denser yet ; and aye 



40 THE BABES OF GOD. 

More high it clomb, and lower aye it dived, 

Till, measureless in all proportions now, 

A solid darkness, an embodied night, 

It seemed, that overtopped and shadowed heaven, 

That underdipped and lapped the underworld, 

And reaching out its crescent arms beyond 

The stars, more wide than utmost east and west, 

Menaced infinitude with black embrace. 

Nor darkness visible alone appeared, 

But darkness potent, flinging out its force, 

And sowing blindness on the soil of sight ; 

And they that looked upon it long, conceived 

The virtue of their vision marred, decayed, 

And o'er the eyes, with frequent pressure, drew 

The hand, their sluggard spirits as to rouse. 

Meantime, a strange oppression grew upon them, 
Still grew with their advance. Seemed it the blood 
Was refluent and crowded to the heart, 
Fearful or forceless on its course to run. 
The virtue of the spirit made retreat 
No more availing for its wonted sway. 
So, when some mighty city is besieged, 
The brave defenders easily at first 
Kepel the assailants from its utmost bound; 



THE BABES OF GOB. 41 

But, worn at length with labors, vigils, wounds, 

The wall they yield, — surrender to the foe 

Broad spaces of the city, and, themselves 

Retiring to the citadel, confine to that 

Their strenuous defence, attempting less 

The more t' accomplish, — thus the daunted force 

Of these celestial voyagers fell back 

(So seemed it), as in presence of a foe. 

And, as a vehicle that over roads 

Of yielding sand goes half-spoke deep, with sweat 

And straining of the team, makes lingering speed, 

So all their powers of thought, of Avill, or sense, 

At disadvantage wrought, some obstacle 

Encountering that robbed them of effect. 

All forces have their lawful atmosphere, 
Wherein they freely breathe, and are themselves. 
The voice is debtor to the ear for hearing, 
Else not a voice ; the eyes, to sky and earth 
For sweet solicitation, sights akin, 
With it born into correspondence, else 
Were but the image of an eye ; and man 
Only 'mid love and trust and reverence may 
Put forth the perfect vigors of his soul. 
In utter isolation, is he like 
Lungs wanting air, eyes robbed of light, a heart 



42 THE BABES OF GOD. 

On which no willing arteries wait to take 

Its crimson good with honoring hands away. 

Alas for him, then, who from childhood lacks 

All genial recognition of his spirit, 

All valuing of his value ; deemed, when truest, most 

Perverse ; when wisest, purest in his faith, 

Or fool or felon ; for his virtue still 

Dishonored ! You that see commixture strange 

Of genius heavenly, with craze or crime 

Or imbecility, know the cause, and learn 

What is the deepest tragedy of our earth. 

Oppressed with influence inimical, 

Pillaged of half their force, the godlike babes 

Hold on no less, right on, with steady eyes, 

And lips all smiling-firm. Though unknown fate 

Before, divinity they knew within. 

" Come the encounter, then ; abide the shock 

Who may," they said ; yet by their inward prayer 

Still supplicated knowledge. They had come 

From the celestial kingdoms, guided well 

By some fine pilotage of the soul that steered 

Straight to the port where lay the spirit-freight ; 

For whether through the airy deeps, or 'mid 

The rocks, through winding straits and whirling tides 

And stormy seas of time, the soul its way 



THE BABES OF GOD. 43 

Discerns with master-eye, the helm with skill 
Controlling, while the helm is to its hand 
Frankly confided ; voyaging as it bade, 
They came, knowing but this, — that night and toil, 
Trial and woe, awaited then, to bless if they 
Were worthy; knowing this, nor more. " What shall 
The trial be ? " they questioned. " What is this 
To which our steps each moment bear us near ? " 
Among their number one there was ('twas he 
Of brooding, thoughtful eyes), a silent soul. 
'Mid happy, careless converse, rising like 
The gush of fountains that fling up with joy 
Their crystal jets and snowy spray, he kept 
A gentle silence, — not with knitted brows, 
In striving pain of thought, or in reproof 
Of their sweet freedom ; yet he spake no word, 
Nor seemed intent to hear, nor quick to see. 
And, when conjectures and half-thoughts of that 
Whereof none rightly knew they ventured, he 
Mingled no guess with theirs, indifferent seemed ; 
To spread the wings of question seemed unapt. 
Last to conjecture or opine, to know 
Still was he first; and, opening his lips, 
Poured meditation as a river deep 
And swift, till their intelligence, afloat 



44 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Upon his thought, above all anchorage 
Uplifted, like a fleet of barges borne 
By some deep-rolling tide, were onward swept. 
Then was it manifest that no object, word, 
Nor opportunity on him was lost ; 
While whatsoe'er the sense obtained, was held 
In keen and quiet scrutiny before 
An inward eye, that knew no lidded sleep, 
That knew no clouded haste nor weak impatience- 
Placid, inexorable, in search, he thought, 
He questioned, as he breathed ; and, though he 

bore 
One query in his heart a thousand seons, 
Happily he bore it still, without a dream 
Of haste or pain, nor in a thousand seons 
Ceased for a moment his cherubic quest. 
Sudden he spoke, and poured his copious thought ; 
While, circling round, his brother souls gave ear, — 

" These are the Elements that greet our sight, 
Not overwelcome. Oft of these in heaven 
The sages made some mention. Standing near, 
I marvelled what they meant, and marvelled why 
Their words, not understood, touched my deep heart 
So surely, as they claimed acquaintance there 
Older than mine acquaintance with myself. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 45 

These are those Elements. The sight explains 

Remembrance ; for the words that long have been 

The idle guests of memory leap to wed 

Heart-feeling, of the eye engendered now. 

These are the Elements, than themselves as yet 

More elemental, undeveloped, dead, 

Till our arrival give their nature force. 

For life, all life, all energy, obtains 

But by the soul. But when our life shall touch 

This darkness, cold and hot, and moist and dry, 

Heavy and flighty, hard, opaque, inert, 

Matter with all its properties, and world, 

The everlasting opposite of soul, shall then 

Begin existence, rushing into form, 

Assuming force, made complete Element. 

The touch of life celestial 'tis that makes 

Desire in its dark bosom, and endows 

Matter with matter's force, world with the power 

That makes it World, and gives it to itself. 

By elder, wiser spirits I would brood, 

And wonder what they meant, and ask my heart 

Wherefore it thrilled when these, not understood, 

Were syllabled, — to clear perception now 

I find this growing in my soul. — These are 



46 THE BABES OF GOD. 

The Elements — that which is opposite, 

Forever opposite to moving spirits, 

Those elements, with which the Life we bear, 

The pure immortal Life, must measure soon 

Its vigor, and be proved. Here hot and cold, 

And moist and dry, heavy and flighty, dark, 

Opaque, inert, and whatsoever may 

Enforce a limitation on the soul, 

Await us, — dead till our arrival wake 

Desire in its dark bosom : for as yet, 

To definite nature undeveloped, heat 

And cold, and weight and levity, are not ; 

But here the possibility of all, 

The Dim, the sheer Obscure, abides the touch 

Of spirit, Life celestial, — then will burst 

Into its proper power, then strive to make 

The soul its mere subordinate, its slave 

And instrument, yea, with itself will seek 

To fill infinitude, eternity, — 

To give itself supremacy, and impose 

Its law and sway imperious on all spirit, 

Upon all Godhood, and itself be God. 

For this is that which shall be matter, shall 

Be World, when once enkindled by the soul, - 

To soul forever opposite ; by soul 



THE BABES OF GOB. 47 

Quickened unto that power of opposition, 
We enter here, and all the deepest fates 
Of all the universe upon us lie, — 
The fate of God himself upon us lies. 
For could the wave flow backward, could 
Pure World prevail o'er spirit once, no pause 
Should ever come to its encroachment : on 
And on 'twould flow in horrible victory, 
The barriers being broken, and at last 
Godhood itself must feed the maw of world. 

We enter here to test in our own souls 
The destinies that keep the universe 
Alive and sweet, that work deliverance 
Perpetual for the all. The hope, the fear, 
The scope and purpose of the Whole, will now, 
Committed to our bosoms, come in us 
Anew to old solution. This I see. 
God's burden lies upon us, brothers ; let 
It fall on shoulders worthy of the charge : 
And let the greatness of our destiny 
Assure us ; for the universe will ne'er 
Go backward, never fail of victory ; 
And we, the present symbols of its force, 
Ride onward in its conquering car, and reach, 
With its arrival sure, the wondrous goal. 



48 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Still pressing onward while lie thus explained, 
Now to the far-reflected shadow dim, 
The obscure prophecy of that mortal dark, 
They, pioneers immortal, had arrived ; 
Here felt the touch of twilight ; and each one, 
Looking upon his bright companions, saw, 
With troubled eye, the aureole on his brows 
Diminished of its tenderest, softest beams, 
Robbed by a hostile influence, now just known. 

Here now they paused, high-hearted, not in fear, 
Though stricken with a mighty awe, yet rich 
In great resolve, or what is greater than 
Resolve most high-heroic, the grand push 
Of Providence, or Necessity divine 
From out the heart whose prophecy and law, 
Whose miracle and pledge of issues large 
And sure it is forever. He is great 
In whom the All hath fashioned for itself 
A centre new, and by the usages 
And virtue of his heart must vindicate 
Supremacy. The force of destiny, 
The sureness of a God, sureness of which 
All courage is the image, dwell in him. 
And in their bosoms this was mounting now — 
Was growing, gathering, in their godlike souls, 



THE BABES OF GOD. 49 

Was gleaming on their foreheads, in their eyes, 

And they were victors ere their strife began. 

Born each of God, a total effluence 

Of his divinest bosom, how should not 

The mastery and virtue of his heart 

Go with its product ? It shall touch the deeps 

Only to reach the heights ! shall strike its root 

As low as to the nethermost abyss, 

That it may branch and blossom, and may bear 

Golden immortal wealth of fruitage, far 

Above all height of stars, or stretch of sky, 

Beneath the noon of pure eternity ! 

They, growing conscious of their destiny, 

Here in the presence of its mighty test, 

Saw in that awful darkness evidence 

Of light ineffable to come ; discerned 

What altitude the summit should attain 

By this descending of the inverse base, 

And by their awe were gladdened, by their fear 

To courage were restored. And so they stood 

And gazed undaunted on the sable cloud, 

That high as heaven, deep as deepest hell, 

And wide as east and west, engrossed all space 

Before them, filling half infinitude. 

Then with the sense of their great destiny, 



50 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Of what they were, of all that in them, all 

That by them, should be wrought, they, until now 

The beauteous babes of God, by sudden growth 

Rose in their stature, tow'ring, babes no more, 

Rose in celestial majesty of strength, 

Fit to be champions of the universe, 

Vast as victorious Morning, when he strides, 

With blazing forehead, o'er the eastern hills, 

And, terrible in goodness, drives fell Night, 

In scudding, scattered flight before his face. 

So did they stand, and looking each on each, 

Felt no amazement, for each bosom told 

Itself the secret of that grandeur new. 

But now they wondered they had e'er been less, 

They, with such World-fates, God-fates, holding place 

And seeking issue in their harboring hearts. 

The deep-eyed youngest thereof spoke in tones 
Of sweetest penetration : he was one 
Who saw with happy ease the essences 
Of all things near at hand, but never ran 
Before his life in speculative quest, 
Nor e'er pursued with far-off flight and nice 
Inspection truth remote and manifold, 
In manifoldness wedded wondrously 
And through it wrought to richer unity. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 51 

He lived and rested sweetly in his life, 
Content, and sure of heart, and sure of eye. 
And effortless as seeing was his speech, 
Nor dreamed he to convince, persuade, effect, 
But saw and said : his words were as his heart- 
beats, 
Part of the health and order of his life ; 
And when he spoke, there seemed no joy, 
Calling, nor use in life, but listening. 
He what he saw declared : " Immortal brothers, 
Size is but symbol, not reality, 
And magnitude foretells and not fulfills ; 
For all this ring of vastness rounding in 
Our life is but perspective of that life, 
Sign and suggestion hovering round the soul. 
We in the growth and rareness of our praise 
Receive by strength and stature vast and high 
Hint of the greatness we shall yet attain, — 
Greatness that shall belittle size and space, 
And efficacy of pure power, that leaves 
All name and thought of striving strength behind. 
This majesty of stature is first step 
Of our descent into the realm of World, — 
Of our descent beginning : of our rise 
And glorious end the eloquent prophecy. 



52 THE BABES OF GOD. 

They heard and knew it truth, and yet had joy 
In that most lofty presence, joy to see 
That they were gods indeed, and meet to hear 
The fates of vast futurities, and meet 
To be the standard-bearers of the All. 
Joy was it to them now to read in this 
Large-lettered proclamation, faiths 
Which they had cherished in their secret souls. 
Joy had they, and t'was well ; and all their soul 
By right appointment poured its secret, 
Shed all its grace and worthiness, into form, 
In shape and shining flung its challenge 
Before the lasting elements opaque ; 
And so they stood, each form a monument, 
Each eye a sun, each presence day and heaven. 

Now in the bosom of the deep, before 
Lying in stillness of a death that ne'er 
Was life, — of death born unto death from out 
A womb of death, — showed tokens of unrest, 
A stir, a shiver, vague and vast, that grew, 
And heightened into wildness ; to and fro 
Went billows beating o'er each other, dashed 
In spray of darkness up and down afar ; 
Mad thrills ran riot through the black, 
Like crazy spasms of sick nerves in men; 



THE BABES OF GOB. 53 

At length, concentring its commotion, swelled 

Its sombre bosom madly toward the troop 

Immortal, yearning unto them in pain, — 

In pain of uncontained, untold desire, — 

In pain of mutual contention fierce, — 

Each hungry atom striving to be first. 

So like the puffed cheek of a trumpeter, 

Or Nubian lip voluptuous, did the abyss 

Shape forth its longing toward these shining souls. 

Meanwhile a smothered moan, wild, weird, and dim, 
Vast, dubious, and awful, rose, — a moan 
Of dim and dumb desire, — desire that hath 
No eye, no tongue, no sense, nor knowledge, knows 
Not e'en itself, yet is, and measureless, 
Tameless, and terrible to apprehend. 
As when near iEtna the Sicilian hears 
A humming horror underground, so low 
A whisper drowns it, yet no thunder-burst 
Of loud artillery near at hand should be 
Worthy to name beside it, for it goes forth — 
As to him seems — through earth and heaven, jars 
The sun in heaven, makes the planet quail 
Beneath his feet : so came that moan of pain, 
Of lust and longing, from th' abyss ; so low, 
So dim, so hushed, no coward whisper were ; 



54 THE BABES OF GOD. 

Yet more the ear it filled than all the din, 
The wars and thunders of a thousand years 
Could make, concentred to a single roar. 

Th' immortals heard the omen, heard and felt 
Its horror in their marrow, to their core, — 
They saw and heard ; but, raised in spirit high, 
Smiled back a godlike challenge to their fates, 
Serene in sureness, holding fast their hope. 

Then one among them cried, " O royal souls ! 
So soon to put the purple off, — so soon 
In naked contest with the nether fates 
To test your quality, — behold the sign, 
And read its meaning well ! the elements 
Confess the worth that in our life resides, 
And pay it homage, robber homage pay, 
Inverse, but loud and most significant. 
See, see, the soul wins all things to itself ! 
E'en that which would enslave it, is the slave 
Of wish to have and hold it in possession, 
And renders to it thus infernal worship. 
The soul wins all things to itself, — the soul 
Is lord ; it cannot fail ; and we are soul." 
Then all the radiant brothers lifted up 
The voice, and chanted loud and sweet, with cheer 
Of heavenly trust, a welcome to their fates. 



THE BABES OF GOD. 55 

Though weak the private will, existence 

To obey its law is strong ; 
And we shall faint and we shall falter, 

We shall mourn the journey long ; 
But Life within us, Love within us, 

Love and Life and Truth divine, 
Serenely march through deep and darkness, 

March, and reach their high design. 

Necessity must conquer, conquer, 

Let what will against it work : 
In vain all powers conspire to thwart it, 

Vainly foes to wound it lurk. 
Necessity our hearts inhabits : 

There the universe's need 
Is rounded, ripened, sown of heaven, — 

Of new heavens and stars the seed. 

Then welcome discord to our bosoms, 

Welcome darkness to our light, 
Thrice welcome, Weight unto the pinions 

We have used for heavenly flight : 
The Best of Worst works out a Better, 

Light of Darkness makes a sun, 
And Life by Death is made immortal, 

Victory in defeat begun. 



56 THE CONFESSION. 



THE CONFESSION. 



■pmm. 



Beneath the pines, bird-haunted, by the shore, 
While morning clomb the height of heaven, we sat, 
My friend and I, — the friend I honored most 
Of all men. He the elder, for his beard 
Was silvered, mine yet young upon my chin ; 
But in our love was no disparity. 
Now he went over sea, that afternoon 
Would sail, not to return, nor could I hope 
To follow ; and because I loved him greatly, 
And he to me great love had given, we met 
To pass apart and consecrate these hours, 
Our last together, and to bid adieu 
Unwitnessed. Neighboring to the harbor's mouth, 
Fronting the sea, there was a grove of pines, 
That from a height went down with steep descent, 
And overhung the rocks that lined the shore ; 
This was our favorite spot ; and many a time, 
In summer days, we sat upon the brow, 



THE CONFESSION. 57 

To see through lessening stems and green arcades, 
A hundred yards below, the long surge roll 
And whiten on the strand. Hither this day 
We came at mid of morn, so 'twas agreed, 
And, seated as our wont was, heard the boom 
Of billows, soon to heave our hearts between ; 
Here quaffed the wine of our commune in slow, 
Deep draughts through hurrying hours. But when 

at length 
The sun made lustrous noon o'er land and sea, 
Speech ended, silence brooded on our lips 
A tender space ; then we, yet silent, rose, 
And joined our hands, and only with our eyes 
Spake sad, sweet benedictions and farewells. 

Meeting and parting there for us had end. 
He sailed, nor landed but on shores unseen. 
Not now the loud Atlantic, not the waste 
Of clamoring waters, but the mystic sea 
Divides which girts this island men call Time. 

But some brief record of old sorrows past, 
And joy succeeding, he, fulfilling so 
A promise, gave into my hand that day. 
" Take it," he said : " 'tis little worth, and yet 
I do not play the Ananias here. 
Your hand upon these pages, on my breast, 



58 THE CONFESSION. 

The life-beat under, lies. No second touch 

So near with felt approaches ! But when I 

Upon that voyage of discovery 

Have gone that is to all appointed, then 

Keep or impart it as you will. The grave 

Needs not another than its own reserve : 

The miser's self is liberal there, and makes 

His all his bounty." He hath reached his haven ; 

Nor storm shall vex, nor calm delay him more : 

His sail is furled. These memories are mine, 

And what he gave to me, I give again. 

Wqz (Confession. 

An eve in maiden summer 'twas, — young eve, 
Half parted from Day's bosom, all a-blush 
With newness and the kisses of the sun, 
That o'er the horizon lingered his farewell, — 
As I along a lonely way, that kept 
The river's eastern bank, went still and slow. 
Nature was in the height of her fine mood, 
And poured enchantment ; ripples to the marge 
Gave hint, it seemed, of some great happiness ; 
The birds made royal revel, singing Day 
To dewy couch, and Night to jewelled throne ; 



THE CONFESSION. 59 

The air was liquid heaven, that a god 

Had blessed, inhaling, and the zephyr might 

Have been the fanning of an angel's wing, 

To cool the sleep of some Elysian babe ; 

Below the river's western bank the sky 

Arched under sweetly, and against it trees, 

Maple and upland oak and feathery elm, 

Stood out inverse, and swayed with such a grace 

Of subtlest undulation, that the eye 

Believed them breathing ; while around were green 

And bloom and blowing beauty of the time : 

Oh, 'twas the brimming hour of all the year ! 

But not to me. Unsummered, sunless, void, 
I walked as one that, going, knows it not ; 
And with the season's joyance still commixed 
The alien, fierce refrain of my despair. 

For I had come from conflict with the host 
Of hot self-seekers, hot and blind, who throng 
The thoroughfares of cities ; I had known 
Their colder kindred in green solitudes, 
Who blot the bloom of spring, — in bitterness 
I said, — or shame the cheek of matron summer, 
With villain company ; and, seeing all, 



60 THE CONFESSION. 

Now was I pillaged of that treasure dear, 
That precious reverence for the race of man, 
Which he is rich that hath, — that wanteth, poor. 

Against the rising scorn long had I striven 
With warm contention. As on Holland's shore 
The dwellers, when their billowy foe, beyond 
Accustomed limit bearing his assault, 
Frowns murderous menace o'er their fields and 

herds 
And happy homes, will toil with swelling veins, 
By night and day, above his rage to rear 
Their providence, — so I, to make secure 
My sacred reverence for man, essayed 
With labor ; swore I would not yield it up ; 
Exhorted urgently my soul, and said, 
" Be resolute, O soul ! nor let the sight 
And sufferance of human baseness cause 
To perish thy good thoughts of human-kind. 
Oh ! if the race of man be naught, why shines 
The sun with that divine expenditure 
Of golden day ? Why do the eternal stars 
Smile from their silent thrones through night and 

space ? 
Why yon benignity of azure bend 
Sweet shelter o'er man's life ? False are they, false ? 



THE CONFESSION. 61 

Yea, do the heavens lie ? and are the stars 
Tongues of an infinite hypocrisy?" 

Not so persuaded ; for still came the voice, 
Uttered in speaking act, from many a land, 
" Self is our god ; soul is our barter, — prized, 
But prized for vending : who will bid may buy ! " 

Ah, piteous Heaven ! words that smote the ear 
With such offence, offence o'erwent its mark ; 
And I, the thinking I, stood vaguely stirred, 
Like one that on a white-hot iron lays 
The hand, unwitting, nor at first perceives 
The harm he suffers, hurt beyond the sense 
Of hurt, but soon, too soon, the herald, Pain, 
Trumpets the news with iteration sore : 
So I, benumbed with scath a season, took 
At last the sense, and what I suffered knew. 

Oh ! then mine ears I deafened, shut the eyes, 
Made blind resolve another lid, and hung 
My very prayers as curtains 'twixt the fact 
And me. In vain : glared on the eyeball still 
The sight of base self-love, with self-contempt 
One and the same ; and still into the brain 
The voice of that soul-profanation crept, 



62 THE CONFESSION. 

And stung there like an adder. Weak, at last, 
" Doth not each nature estimate itself? " 
I said. " Doth not the worm, by crawling, say, 
' A worm am I ; ' the bird, by flight, proclaim 
The thing it is ? Though I should call the worm 
An eagle, 'twould not soar, and eye the sun. 
Ye that your own soul's honor make a virgin 
Sold from Circassia to the Turk, — e'en though 
Pleasured with wealth and state and capping trains ; 
By all the supplest joints and meekest knees 
Of homage though attended, — be your act 
Your title, graced no more in name than deed. 
' Odi profanum vulgus : ' well 'twas said, 
Horatius, and I thank the hearty words." 

Fooled with despair, thus loitered I, that eve, 
Along the lone way by the river-side, 
And wondered whether all the worlds are rich 
In such a plentitude of pauper souls ; 
And, guessing all no better tenanted, 
I jeered at Nature, asked the dame if she 
Were proud of these her houses in the heavens, 
Lived in by life's disgraces, such as blot 
A space else innocent, — waste worlds, all waste, 
Infested, not inhabited, I said : 



THE CONFESSION. 63 

While all the golden cohorts of the sun 
Charged from the west on my despair, and rained 
Their bright blades vainly on its mail of steel. 

But here that wretched reverie was cut short. 
A silver float of voices for a time 
Had wandered 'bout my ear, and brushed the 

sense 
With tender wing, unheeded, till at length, 
In sudden symphony with sweet assault, 
It came victorious, breaking through my gloom. 
Then, looking up, a troop of maids I saw 
Approaching, snowy-necked, bound in a knot 
With circling whiteness of their arms of love. 
Swan-like and slow along the way they swam, 
While all above them light-winged laughters sweet 
Made gladsome flicker, like the fire-fly maze 
Above a mead in the calm summer night. 

Whence was the power of that pure merriment? 
For in a moment, when it touched my heart, 
My heart was changed ; the bitterness forsook 
Its brimming cup : I stood in middle state, 
As one to whom all avenues are open, 
And bane or blessing, joy or pain, may chance. 



64 THE CONFESSION. 

Nearer each other, soon we met and passed; 
And one, in passing, turned to mine her eyes : 
One fleeting glance ... a moment . . . and for- 
ever! 
" Ah, sky-deep eyes of the Immortals ! " sang 
Another soul, as 'twere, within my breast, — 
Homeric heart of man, that, ever young, 
Beholds the gods, and knows them, when they turn, 
Though clothed upon with mortal seeming, turn, 
And look their own divineness, and are gone. 

Oh ! there are eyes of woman that in truth, 
In manly truth, not glozing, one could name 
The mystic windows of eternity, 
Ineffable in depth, divine in calm, 
Supreme ; and such were these. And there are eyes 
That have in them the space of heaven, — space 
For stars to circle, thought to wander in, 
Yea, room for roaming Fancy, when his wing 
Waves once, and leaves behind sun, stars, and all 
The visible universe ; and such were these. 
And as a sea, on which a lone ship sails, 
And is in burden and in measure naught 
To the great royal bosom, that breathes on 
Beneath her weight unconscious, while afar 



THE CONFESSION. 65 

His blue breadth sweeping meets the bending sky, — 

Such ocean were these eyes ; and on them Time, 

A solitary ship, sailed. Welcome, yet 

A dot, no more ! Seas by no mortal bound 

Included, pure abysms of Soul, they were : 

To them no rounding shore, nor continent 

Beneath, save the Eternal. Ah ! from what 

Remove unspeakable their vision came ; 

To what Beyond did journey ! Yet did they, 

Of their sweet charity, not o'erlook the world, 

But condescended to it with a grace 

Half carelessness and half beneficence : 

As when a great king meets a pilgrim poor, 

Tosses a greeting and a purse of gold, 

And says to some attendant, " Take him home ; 

Let him have water, raiment, meat, and wine, 

And cheer his heart ; " and, even in speaking thus, 

Lends to the words the less part of his thought, 

And yields the more to interests of his realm. 

And when I met such eyes, and, marvelling, saw 
Their climless all-acceptance ; when I felt 
The Eternal Essence, by their freighted beam, 
Pour on my soul the infinite rebuke 
Of its pure sanity and moveless peace, — 



66 THE CONFESSION. 

Blush-hot my forehead grew, and eager shame 

Hunted the imps of anger from my breast. 

Downcast a while and dumb I stood in muse, 

Thrilled by the hand of dear convin cement new: 

Then said I, " He whom Nature hath contained 

In one humanity with such a heart 

As from its treasure may those orbs endow, — 

That man, though base, is worthy of good thoughts ; 

And I henceforth, in faith of their avouch, 

New and undaunted hopes, and ever new, 

On them will pledge whose deeds, like barbed shafts, 

'Gainst Hope itself are shot with daily wounds. 

O sun and stars ! O peace of bending heavens ! 

And thou, that other heaven, believing heart 

Of man or woman, see, I come, I climb, 

Your faith to share, so wisest, though deceived ! " 

Then in my heart that great rebuke grew sweet, 
And, sweet-abiding, sowed about my breast 
Seeds of high solace, springing day by day, 
Till the wide harvest waved its wealth of peace. 
And of my fault I made a sepulchre, 
Hollowed with self-confession, and therein 
Gave to oblivion the fault of all. 
And as with dewy nights and sunny days 



TUE CONFESSION. 67 

The grass grows over graves, and roses bloom, 
Thus o'er the scars of anger and self-blame 
Sprang charitable thoughts to sward my soul 
With grace, and memory itself was healed. 



Twice had the changing seasons run their round, 
Bringing to mortals happiness and tears : 
The third year came, and with it heaven itself 
Took wing to fold its pinions on my heart! 
Then in the self-same eyes I gazed again, 
To read there love, immeasurable love, 
In sanctity of virgin scripture writ ; 
And words were murmured, words that passed her lips 
To pass again no others, but one breast 
Still echoes with them, as with rolling hymns 
And hallelujahs some high-vaulted roof, 
Beneath which joy in praise its wealth outpours. 
Then, as high-rising tides might lift a barque, 
That long had waited, and the mariners, 
Now homeward bound, with many a loud huzza, 
Run to the ropes together, all as one 
Lay hold, spread topsail and topgallant, set 
The royals, fix the booms, while every soul 
Bubbles with pleasure as before the prow 



68 TEE CONFESSION. 

The gamesome foam goes dancing, and the wake 
Grows white behind : so love and love's delight 
Swelled to uplift me on their wide expanse, 
While all. the winds of promise blew me home. 
And when the ocean of that summer's joy 
Beat on the shores of autumn, then, then came 
My heart to port, with all its argosies 
Of hopes that furled their sails in blessedness. 
Nor yet I called her mine. How could I dare ? 
Mine as the sky the eagle's, when he floats 
Amid its deeps ! Mine as the sun of June 
Is propertied by the cup he paints with gold, 
Or morning by the birds, whose folded sleep 
Her soft ray touches till it flower in song ! 



The bird yet sings among his boughs ; but, ah ! 
The beauteous morning glads another sky. 
My sun went down with sudden, swift decline, 
How glorious in setting ! Now for me 
Death only, kind with fated offices, 
Shall lift again the curtains of the dawn. 

Oh ! Avondrous is the West, with memories 
Illumed and hopes that tint its clouds, and turn 



THE CONFESSION. 69 

Their gloom to glory ! There Eternity 

Quaffs with a kiss the breath of Time, and Earth, 

Ecstatic, dies upon the lips of Heaven. 

Still sings my heart, but ever toward the West : 

Only beyond that lies the Orient ! 

Yet from that bright Beyond, a voice, that I 
With joy have heard more nearly, breathes in sweet, 
Majestic admonition, which I hive 
With sacred care in summer hours, too few ; 
Thereon to feed and live when cruel winds 
Come whirling cold, and warn the flowers to sleep. 
Nay, not in words nor thoughts full-syllabled 
Within the mind I gather ; not as bees 
Pluck from the hearts of flowers their richest store ; 
Oh ! rather as the rose in shining days 
Drinks honey from the sunbeams, won with prayers 
That Nature from her infinite heart inbreathes 
And answers. Like as when a sleeper wakes 
At midnight, echoing with a dream of music, 
And cannot tell if 'tis a far-off strain, 
Borne subtly to the sense, or if, perchance, 
The footprints of his sounding dreams abide 
Upon the shores of waking thought, so deep 
Impressed they long endure the washing waves : 



70 THE CONFESSION. 

Then, to resolve his doubt, he rises, lifts 

A window, listens in the open air, 

And hears, — ah, yes ! it is a far-off strain 

Borne subtly to the sense ; and when direct 

The light air brings it, he distinguishes 

Some fragments of a noble tune, a tune 

Whose harmonies in great Beethoven's soul 

Rose into being, a vocal universe, 

With sounds for stars, that roll in orbit due 

And fixed allegiance, silver multitudes, 

Processions, constellations, galaxies : 

So comes suggestion to my secret soul, 

But as the music of a saintly life, 

Blown from beyond the stars in broken strains. 

Yet, as the thought of minds majestic, phrased 
In barbarous dialects, may half appear 
Grotesquely hinted, so in words I shape, 
And, shaping, still disguise the sense of that 
Diviner language so expressed, and hid : 
" Strange to themselves, by wizard charm beguiled, 
Wander the witless many, unaware 
Their little aims, false wishes, and low thoughts 
Slander an angel that within them lives. 
Them meet thou, knowing of their true estate, 



THE CONFESSION. 71 

And with the swordecl charity of truth, 
Smite on the bonds of their enchantment strong, 
Sheer off the plied delusion, till they stand 
In divine nakedness, discovered souls, 
Amazed with recognition of themselves. 
Flame on them with the Fact ! Let reverence 
Be marble in thy feature, in thy look 
Be lightning, to outface and all consume 
The self-contempt that poisons good desire ; 
Still bearing in thy breast secure this faith, 
The basest man is better than his act ; 
So making it thy task to rescue him, 
In heart and hope, from the calumnious 
And damning argument of his own deed." 

Printed 1870. 



72 TO A THEOLOGICAL OPPONENT. 



TO A THEOLOGICAL OPPONENT. 

Speak truth of me, and if the truth condemn, 

More is my need to know it, and the more 

Winneth he golden thanks, whose virtue bore 
Brave witness: garlands will I weave for them 
That hate me wisely ; yea, their garment's hem 

Will kiss, that are the eye of God to me, 

With purest vision all my ill to see, 
And show, as heaven's mirror, what I am. 

But, " Hypocrite," if thou cry, thy word is naught ; 
Nor hurt nor help I take from lying blame ; 

Of thine own sin thy censure is begot, — 
Knaves damn themselves beneath their neighbor's 
name. 

Finding true cause, fire, fire thy fiercest shot ; 
Spoke rightly, ban and blessing are the same. 



TIME'S HOUSEHOLD. 73 



TIME'S HOUSEHOLD. 

Time is a lowly peasant, with whom bred 

Are sons of kings, of an immortal race. 

Their garb to their condition they debase, 
Eat of his fare, make on his straw their bed ; 
Conversing, use his homely dialect 

(Giving the words some meaning of their own),. 

Till, half forgetting purple, sceptre, throne, 
Themselves his children mere they nigh suspect. 

And when, divinely moved, one goes away, 
His royal right and glory to resume, 

Loss of his rags appears his life's decay : 
He weeps, and his companions mourn his doom. 

Yet doth a voice in every bosom say, 
" So perish buds while bursting into bloom.'" 

Printed 1861. 



74 GREAT LOVE. 



GEE AT LOVE. 

Didst thou not love me, were there any day? 

Ah, for thy love how then my lips could plead ! 
But, since thou lov'st me, love me not, I pray ; 

For, being loved, denial is my need. 
O blessed Eden, garden of my soul ! 

Summon thine austere angel ; bid him stand 
Before the gate, and with a stern control 

Wave prohibition toward this outer land. 
To love I kneel, and pray for love's reproof ; 

For, wert thou less mine own, I might not dare 
To trust thy heart would hold my heart aloof, 

And nip its budding hopes with frosty air. 
But, oh ! thy love is great, nor will destroy : 

Too great it is to slay my heart with joy. 



EXPRESSION. 75 



EXPRESSION. 

Oh ! I am false, if I be coldly true, 

And voice my heart by rigid rule and measure. 
Love-moved, love's pinion let its flight pursue, 

And to outgo cold reason make a pleasure. 
So, by divineness of love's look incited, 

My heart, not wrongly, hails each star of heaven : 
" Thence were of old," it cries, " your torches lighted, 

Thine, lone Arcturus ? yours, ye silver seven ? " 
The heavens it whispers, "If your blue did fade, 

There were an eye should make you blest again ; 
For Nature there hath prudently forelaid 

And treasured store of sky to meet all drain." 
And if these fancies hot, cool reason chide, 
Reason doth blush, and haste his face to hide. 



76 TO OUR ONLY, 



TO OUR ONLY. 

I. - Ntgfjt. 

Though Night's dark pall about the earth be drawn, 

Our spirits are not shrouded ; for the sun 
Again, we know, will beam ; again the dawn, 

To blush sweet heralding, before him run. 
Therefore, in peace of heart do we behold 

The god declining from his throne on high, 
Till Evening couch him in her dying gold, 

And leave the Slumber-queen to rule the sky. 
Oh ! if we doubted ! — if beneath the West, 

Unpromised to the morrow, day went down, 
All hearts were sinking as he sank to rest, 

All hopes would die before Night's cruel frown. 
But thou, our only, dearer than the day, 
Ah ! what returning, if thou pass away ? 



TO OUR ONLY. 77 



. — fKoi'mng. 



As when a white-winged ship has left the shore, 

And they that followed her with loving eyes 
Look where she was, and see her there no more, 

They deem her safe beneath remoter skies, 
And think the breeze that bore her from their sight 

A fortune fairer than sweet summer calm : 
So from our vision shouldst thou vanish quite, 

God-laden barque, thus could I tune my psalm, — 
" Though 'yoncl the horizon sinks thy snowy sail, 

'Tis that to thy swift heart the heavenly wind 
Blows such prosperity. Things mortal fail 

In speed, and, lingering, are left behind. 
Though space were drowning, thou wert all secure ; 
Though sun's forgot returning, soul were sure." 



78 LOVE AGAINST LOVE. 



LOVE AGAINST LOVE. 

As unto blowing roses summer dews, 

Or morning's amber to the tree-top choirs, 
So to my bosom are the beams that use 

To rain on me from eyes that love inspires. 
Your love, vouchsafe it, royal-hearted few, 

And I will set no common price thereon ; 
Oh ! I will keep as heaven its holy blue, 

Or night her diamonds, that dear treasure won. 
But aught of inward faith must I forego, 

Or miss one drop from Truth's baptismal hand, 
Think poorer thoughts, pray cheaper prayers, and grow 

Less worthy trust, to meet your heart's demand ? 
Farewell ! Your wish I for your sake deny ; 
Rebel to love in truth to love am I. 



TO G. L. S. 79 



TO G. L. S. 

By all the purest love I bear my kind, 
By all the hope I have of human weal, 
By all of duty, resolute and leal, 

That ever may my spirit bless and bind, 

Am I to thee drawn closer and affined, 

Thou mankind's lover, whom to name my friend 
Were prodigal, as on myself to spend 

A public wealth, for myriads designed. 
I near thy spirit as Missouri bears 

His waters to his brother stream, not through 

Fondness, as wooed of thee, or thee to woo ; 
But never is my heart on noble cares 
Rightly intent, but whither it repairs 

Thy soul with earnest tide is flowing too. 

February, 1860. 



80 PRIDE. 



PRIDE. 

Could one ascend with an unheard-of flight, 
And skyward, skyward without limit soar, 
As if the pinion of a god he wore, 

Till earth were left a dwindling star, whose light 

Flew faint upon his track, — at last his height 

All height would vanquish ; there in deeps of space 
Were neither upper nor inferior place : 

Distinction's little zone below him quite. 
Oh ! happy dreams of such a soul have I, 

And softly to my heart of him I sing, 

Whose seraph pride all pride doth overwing, 
Soars unto meekness, reaches low by high, 
And, as in grand equalities of the sky, 

Stands level with the beggar and the king. 



NATURAL SELECTION. 81 



NATURAL SELECTION. 

Ormuzd had fashioned glorious Lives, about 

His face to shine ; but Ahriman, his foe, 

With shapes of death these counterfeited so, 
That with the blessM his dissembling rout 
Mingled, and e'en the eye divine had doubt 

Which were the true Immortals. So made he 

A sphere and kingdom of mortality, 
Called Earth, whereto he bade all journey out. 

Then quick was doubt dissolved and clearness bred ; 
For fell the false ones all, and grovelled prone, 
Enchanted with attraction of their own, 

And eager from death's tables to be fed ; 

While mid the gloom Life reared a radiant head, 
And, flying homeward, far through aether shone. 

Printed October, 1867. 



82 ROYALTY. 



ROYALTY. 

That regal soul I reverence, in whose eyes 

Suffices not all worth the city knows 

To pay that debt which his own heart he owes ; 
For less than level to his bosom rise 
The low crowd's heaven and stars ; above their skies 

Runneth the road his daily feet have pressed ; 

A loftier heaven he beareth in his breast, 
And o'er the summits of achieving hies 

With never a thought of merit or of meed, 
Choosing divinest labors through a pride 

Of soul that holdeth appetite to feed 
Ever on noblest doing, naught beside ; 

Nor praises more himself for hero-deed 
Than stones for weight, or open seas for tide. 



DEFIANCE. 83 



DEFIANCE. 

Time's wonted ravage shall not touch my love. 

His wrath I challenge, his assault defy. 
Rust gathered never on the blue above, 

Nor blearing film upon day's golden eye ; 
Earth and the heavens have gems that are eterne, 

The ruby whitens not with bleach of years ; 
Ever Orion and his brothers burn, 

Nor even despair itself their fading fears. 
Oh ! would he say, who all truth did discern, 

That you, then, stars of my heart's heaven, may die ? 
Or can that heart its secret quite unlearn, 

Nor be illumined when your light is nigh ? 
Though Time o'ercame the skies, their azure staining, 
Time's lord were Love, immortal and unwaning. 



84 TO THE FIFTY-FOURTH REGIMENT. 



TO THE FIFTY-FOURTH REGIMENT OF 
MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS. 

America has owned you men at last ! 

Plough that confession in by noble deed, 

And reverence for your race shall from the seed 
Grow up to grandeur strong and rooted fast. 
Oh, ye have high incitement ! Hear the Past 

Implore you by its sorrow, wrong, and shame ! 

The Future, that will blossom in your fame, 
Awaits your act. Behold, a concourse vast, 

The unborn myriads of your race, are there, 
Are tented with you ; hands unseen reach out 

Innumerable, the soldier's gun to share ; 
While angels of man's destiny about 
Your standards throng, and with a secret shout, 

When ye are noble, fill to heaven the air. 

1863. 



TO PRESIDENT JOHNSON. 85 



TO PRESIDENT JOHNSON. 
I. 

Oh ! I have seen a ship by storm beset, 

When all the skies had burst in tempest craze, 
When the wild billows ran in divers ways, 

And bellowing surge by counter-surge was met, 

Until the cloudy cheek of heaven was wet 
With their contending fury. I have seen 
The good ship caught these warring waves between, 

That all her oak and iron heart did fret 

With grinding pain. Whereon the seaman brave 

Would turn her head (such his sole wisdom now), 
That she might boldly face the fiercer wave, 

Meeting its onset with dividing prow; 

And then the sea, that else had been her grave, 

Did burst upon her vainly, burst and bow. 



86 TO PRESIDENT JOHNSON. 



HE. 



In thee that wrestling barque I see again, 

'Twixt cross-seas vexed, and in a stormy hour, 
Until one deems that even thy heart of power, 
Though ribbed with steel, may scarce endure the strain. 
Oh ! from the seaman, then, a lesson gain : 

Lie not entroughed between opposing seas, 

But face the foe of freedom and of peace 
With conquering prow, and make his onset vain. 

Lo, thou art laden with immortal freight, 
With sacred hopes that through long ages ran, 

Sweeter than life, and with thy country's fate : 
High-hearted, make thine own the seaman's plan, 

Head, head the billows that rolled red of late, 
And still are rolling 'gainst the hope of man. 

1865. 



TO CHABLES SUMNER. 87 



TO CHARLES SUMNER. 

Thou and the stars, our Sumner, still shine on ! 

No dark will dim, no spending waste, thy ray ; 

And we as soon could doubt the milky way, 
Whether enduring be its silver zone, 
As question of thy truth. Their light is gone, 

Whose beam was borrowed : ever Accident, 

Upon a day, the garment it has lent 
Strips off, makes beggars of its kings anon. 

Thou and the stars eternal, inly fed 
From God's own bosom with celestial light, 

Must needs emit the glory in ye bred : 
Alike it is your nature to be bright : 

And I, while thou art shining overhead, 
Know God is with us in the gloomy night. 



TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 



TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 

He is a Master in the ship of State, 

Who shapes in port, and keeps at sea, his aim ; 

Who can abide in storm and calm the same, 
Making right reason dominant over fate. 
The fickle winds may veer and vacillate : 

His purpose points in one direction still ; 

The billows toss his keel, but not his will : 
For to pure law his high thoughts penetrate. 

And while his fortunes fare upon the sea, 
His soul hath footing on the eternal floor. 

Seward ! Art thou that statesman ? Art thou he, 
Who wills in war no less, in peace no more, 

And makes the best thought of his privacy 
A public deed, though treason plot and roar ? 



PEACE. 89 



PEACE. 

Ea 3. <&. 823. 

Peace, noble friend, not in the mouth has birth, 
No progeny of lip or supple tongue, 
Nor of man's complaisance or cunning sprung. 

Daughter of Right Eternal, she the worth 
Of his divinity doth so much adore, 

And to him in her heart such love is bred, 

That ever toward his face her eye is sped, 
And bound are all her wishes evermore 

To his dear pleasure ; so whene'er he look 
Approval on a land where right is done, 
Unto that land her gracious heart is won, 

Its ill estate her sweet will cannot brook, 

And over it her wings of blessing, shook, 
Rain amities, like day-beams from the sun. 



90 DOOM. 



DOOM. 

I dreamed. A base man won a throne, when lo ! 

The earth beneath it fell, became a pit, 

The throne therein, with waters drowning it. 
Then to his vassals called the tyrant, " Ho ! 

Sustain my throne ! " Quick hied an army vast, 
That raised, bore out, and placed it on a plain : 
Down went the level, 'twas a pit again, 

Wherein the whelming tides were rising fast. 
Then up an Alp they bare it, perch it high, 

And cry, " Thy throne this granite shall uphold, 
And make thee, king, companion of the sky, 

Mating thy spendor with the morning gold." 

'Tis an abyss or ere their tale is told : 
Buried like Pharaoh, king and vassal lie. 



HAPPINESS. 91 



HAPPINESS. 

Fleeter than foot of roe art thou to shun 

Their hot pursuit, who thee alone desire ; 

Swift to betray the hope thou dost inspire, 
And make their meed, who all forsake to run 

Upon thy track, a painted shadow won ; 
But them awaitest, that forget to sigh 
When in brave journeying they pass thee by, 

As joy that ends what duty has begun. 
Seeker thyself, if nobly thou'rt unsought, 

But good that still its covetous follower flies, 
And only by them found, by whom forgot 

In valiant thoughts, that occupy the wise, 
For them that woo and them that woo thee not, 

Denied or given, thou art still surprise. 



92 DELIVERANCE. 



DELIVERANCE. 

I. 

Thy voice, Fremont, hath broke th' accursed spell 
Now all the wizards may, with busy hand, 
Wave, to restore it, each his ancient wand, 

Potent erewhile to thrall with influence fell 

What high faith in the nation's soul doth dwell ; 
Potent no more forever : we are free ! 
Questioned with one heroic touch by thee, 

The nation's heart rings out, as if a bell 
In heaven by some archangel smitten now, 

Did, as a signal, through the azure say, 

" A damning stain from earth is washed away, 
Who shall henceforward wear a whiter brow 
Joyous among the stars." And, Hero, thou 

Art as a star preluding sweeter day. 



DELIVERANCE. 93 



JUL 



O eye, that canst discern the cloud and flame ! 

O eagle spirit, fit for high career ! 
True thou continuest to thine early fame, 

And art, as erst, a people's Pioneer, 

Across the desert teaching it to steer ; 
Mid all the terrors of our time, the same 

As when through mountain cloud-wrack, void of 
fear, 
Thou held'st toward lands of gold, high-hearted aim. 

O'er darker desert now and craggier peak, 
Stormed on, alas ! with a more blinding snow, 

And buffeted by winds more bitter-bleak, 
Thine eye, thy footstep, must before us go 
To lands with joy of justice all aglow, 

To lands of which all hopes and prophets speak. 



94 DEL USION. 



DELUSION. 

Upon the mountain summit, pierced with cold, 

I could not credit summer's heat below ; 
Warm yesterday, as some fine fable old, 

Some mythus of the golden age, did show. 
So on these peaks of matter, distant far 

From Life — Itself, the Quickener of the all, 
Our souls, so pressed with sense, deluded are, 

And doubtingly their home, their right, recall. 
Sweet in the bosom memories will teem 

Of birth and bliss empyreal, but we smile, 
We smile despair, then say, " T'is but a dream : 

Clay, clay is real, nor doth our thought beguile." 
Courage, my soul ! Thy dream renew, renew ! 
The worlds are shadows ; spirit's dream is true. 

Published in 1866. 



to . 95 



TO 



Old memories of you, my noble friend, 
Bloom ever in me, bloom and breathe new life ; 
And, like the bee, my heart folds down her wings 
Upon them oft, to rise and fly with store 
The bee might envy ! 

You have lost your voice, 
The Colonel writes me. Would God there were many 
That with the voice might speak to me, as you, 
Clear, eloquent soul, without it ! 'Mid the roar 
Of this rude, striving world, I hear your life . 
Pouring its music, even as one might hear, 
Far off, a chime of silver bells, that hints 
Of mounting orisons, of happy hymns, 
Unfailing trust and immemorial peace. 
So sweet, so pure it comes, that I could deem 
The winged angels of the air, that bring, 
Sigh to deliver it, and pass away 
Unwilling. 

In the western heavens our sun 
Is now declining, and day's drowsy lid 



9G to . 

Betokens close : soon come the night and sleep. 
What of the morrow ? Meet we there again ? 
Ah, not again, I trust ! Whatever Death 
Hath power to part, apart forever, when 
His hand hath come between, let that remain ! 
I will not idly grudge to Time and Change 
And Death their little perquisite, nor make 
Ignoble quarrel, listing to reclaim 
Their seasonable spoil. But you and I — 
How part they who are one, made one in love ? 
Here and Hereafter — love knows not the words 
Let Time be modest, claiming but his own ! 

1867. 



TO IRISH-BORN AMERICANS. 97 



TO IRISH-BORN AMERICANS. 

Now, men of Erin, now the time is come 

When yon must speak, or see your ancient name 
Sunk to perdition of eternal shame ; 

For 'twere confession full, did ye sit dumb 

While crimes enormous, horror's perfect sum, 

Emerge as from your household. Oh ! speak out, 
And make an end forever of all doubt. 

Your souls are human, not a poisonous scum 
Topping the hissing caldron of mad hate. 

Be just, then, to yourselves, and tell these new 
Dragon-reformers, who prepared of late, 
With broadcast slaughter indiscriminate, 

Right of home-rule to argue, that their true 

Compatriots are devils damned, not you. 

1882 (.?). 



98 TO MRS. a W. II. 



TO MRS. C. W. H. 

Since from these darkened eyes the printed word 
Was hidden, thou, at thine own bounty's cost, 
Hast laid upon thy voice their office lost ; 

And treasure rich, in many a volume stored, 

Has through the music of thy lips been poured, — 
Whether the poet's fantasy divine, 
Wit's jewel sparkling, wisdom's pregnant line, 

Or learning's slow-ingathered, golden hoard. 
Thus, when some theme in musing I recall, — 

Perchance how Milton's mighty organ blows, 

Or how young England weak to greatness rose, — 
Thy voice hath gone before ; and still through all 
Upon my ear afresh its accents fall, 

To add a grace that with returning grows. 

March 1, 1884. 



SURCEASE. 99 



SURCEASE. 

The bird that poured from palpitating throat 
Enchanted greeting to the blooms of spring, 
Then mid the leaves of summer loved to sing, 

Hushes, when autumn comes, his happy note ; 

For plainer garb puts off his tinted coat ; 
And, making ready for another shore, 
Seems, ere he fly, to be himself no more, 

His joy, his beauty, and his art, forgot. 
O heart that once thy thrilling secret told 

In warblings low and fitful, but unfeigned, 

Now still thou art, to dumb endurance trained ! 
For thee, too, time hath touched with finger cold. 
Ah ! wilt thou, with the bird, new life unfold, 

When thy near winter for a while hath reigned ? 



100 O'ER THE SANDED FLOOR. 



O'ER THE SANDED FLOOR. 

" May I go to my cousin's, my mother ? 

May I go ? 'Tis a good afternoon." 

" Not to-day : you must stay with the dear little 

brother. 
Not to-day, it is quite too soon." 
She sits o'er the sanded floor, 
By the fireplace wide and high ; 
And there she is sitting for me evermore, 
Still and pure as a star in the sky. 
A child of three summer seasons then, 
Three dreaming summers, was I ; and when 
Another was gone of those long years, 
Unmothered a month had I been. 



I cannot remember my tears, 
So long was the time ago ; 
I cannot remember the day 
That wrought me this orphan woe, 
So far, so far I have voyaged away 



O'ER THE SANDED FLOOR. 101 

And lost to my earthly memory sheer 
Were the mother God gave my soul, 
But that imaged there, and imaged so clear, 
She meeteth me loving and whole. 

There under the East of life, 

There calm by the murmuring shore, 

Beyond these billows of manhood strife, 

She lives to my heart evermore. 

I come to the sacred knees, 

I sit by the honored feet, 

I look with a pure heart's ease 

Up to the features firm and sweet, 

And the deep blue eye, so brooding calm, 

So wealthy with woman-store, 

That its look is both a blessing and psalm, 

Yet solaces all my soul with balm, 

And healing on every hurt doth pour. 

And while these tidings at my heart's door 

The messenger days repeat, repeat, 

With heavenly gaze those eyes will greet 

Me, hastening over the sanded floor. 



102 LOST. 



LOST. 

The doors of heaven were ope one day 

A baby sprite stole out, 
And, wandering far in cherub play, 

He reached the realm of doubt. 

The dark came on. Oh, he was lost ! 

And hark ! that babe divine, 
Whose torn feet tread a nighted coast, 

It is this heart of mine. 

And now 'tis like a little child 

That wanders all alone, 
Unpitied, through a desert wild, 

The homeward way unknown. 

Echoes of heaven are in its ear, 

On high its angel star ; 
But, oh ! the dark and wild are near, 

And heaven and truth are far. 



THE BRIDE. 103 



THE BRIDE. 

She wronged me with suspicion, then she died ; 

She broke her plighted troth, and broke her heart ; 
With pale espousal, when I left her side, 

Death followed, wooing her with better art. 

Ah ! but between there was a woful space, 

Wherein her mute eyes made their plea to mine. 

Alas ! who can restore the shattered vase ? 
Who force the Past his having to resign ? 

Pierced with deceit, low lay my fainting trust, 
Hurt far beyond all witchery of an eye ; 

Nor could she wait its slow reviving, — must 
At once be perfect in her joy, or die. 

Death came, my cold successor, all too soon, 

With icy ardors uttering his vows ; 
And, ere my night had ended, gloomed his noon : 

I wept behind her going to his house. 



104 THE BBIDE. 

And weeping joined my heart to hers with tears, 
As Death my proxy were, to win her hand : 

Unwedded here I pass the waiting years, 
Till come my bridal in another land. 



GIVE ME BEST. 105 



GIVE ME REST. 

Thou aching heart, when will thy throbbing cease, 

And rest allay the pulse's feverish thrill ? 
Will the great Slayer bring the hour of peace, 

And at his bidding thou at length be still ? 

Will coursing life, when he hath quaffed his fill, 
Find on his lowly bed unbroken sleep, 

As from the sea of ages years distil? 
Or yet as here his weary vigils keep, 
Lie down to dream, and wake to watch and pray and 
weep ? 

Oh, give me rest ! This only boon I ask. 

Let others have the richer gifts they pray : 
I would resign the pleasures with the task, 

And gladly follow where this lonely lay 

To dim forgetfulness will lead the way ; 
Nor kneel to fame, nor seek her laurel crown, 

To meet the reaper, Death, in proud array, 
But, like a tired child, would lay me down, 
And every memory in sweet oblivion drown. 

1842. 



106 APOLOGY FOR A BUGGED STYLE. 



PHCEBUS-CARLTLE AND ADDISON'S GHOST; 
OB, APOLOGY FOR A RUGGED STYLE. 

3L — l&titson'g CKfjost aUmtrrs nnti expostulates. 

" Horses of the sun are flying 

Lightning-footed, fiery fast ; 
Vain is iEolus emulous vying, 

Lags behind his fleetest beast. 
Oh, how lightly, featly, sprightly, 

Flit they under Phoebus'' rein ! 
Guide them rightly, hold them tightly, 

Or they'll fire the heavens again ! 

"But what means this stertorous breathing? 

Phoebus' horses touched with 6 heaves ' ? 
Is't their lungs so hotly seething ? 

Ah, my very soul it grieves ! 
Now I call, O Scotch Apollo, 

My steeds breathed with perfect ease ; 
No sound hollow them did follow: 

Your team, — bless me ! how they wheeze ! " 



APOLOGY FOE A BUGGED STYLE. 107 



M. — :Pja:bus=Carlgle tiplatns. 

" Ay, 'tis pretty hard I work 'em, 
Daily through from east to west ; 

While I round a globe, you'd circum- 
navigate a sparrow's nest ! 
Me, a mortal, heaven's court all 

Gave this team that work to do ; 

Breaths are short all, pant and snort all, 

But, my friend — they bear me through ! 

" If your journey be but petty, 

And your soul at leisure, then 
Breath be calm, and port be pretty, 

As your gentle style has been. 
Speed your paces through star-spaces, 

While the fire soul of a sphere 
In them races, then the case is 

Somewhat otherwise, — as here ! " 



108 SHIREEN AND THE BEE. 



SHIREEN AND THE BEE. 

Shireen went out 'mid the blooms of May, 
And gladdened the lea with a rarer bloom : 

On a breathing bank of flowers she lay, 

And sweetened the breath of their perfume, 
Gave balm to the breath of their perfume. 

She sang from her heart ; and the bird on the 
bough 
Pouring paradise out of a quivering throat, 

Grew silent to hear her ; and ah ! now, now, 
No more he delights in his own glad note, 
No longer he pipeth his own pure note. 

On her bed of bloom she closed then her eyes, 
And gave herself up to the peace of her breast ; 

And sleep stole down from a watch in the skies, 
To win a new charm from her virgin rest, 
To gather new balm from her angel rest. 



SU1EEEN AND THE BEE. 109 

A bee was flying the honey to sip 

From maiden bosoms of roses new-blown ; 

But their bosoms he left, and flew to her lip, 
And would feed all summer on that alone, 
Would fill up his hive from that alone. 

But, ah ! too deep the delight of the bee, 
And soon he wanteth all will to fly : 

" Oh ! there's no summer but here," quoth he, 
" And here, only here, will I live and die, — 
It were life upon such a couch to die." 

She woke, and him from his trance of bliss 
Swept lightly away with ivory hand ; 

But now for the bee no honey but this ! 
No roses are sweet in all the land, — 
One sweet, and but one, in all the land. 

Where violets cluster, languid his wing ; 

Where apple-trees blossom, vacant his eye ; 
He can find in his flight no winsome thing : 

"My summer is over," he saith with a sigh; 

" My summers are o'er, I can only die." 



110 TO DEATH. 



TO DEATH. 

Refuge from envy's fierce pursuing, 
And limit to our self-undoing ; 
Pruner of Time, that lopp'st decay 
And fruit-defeating growth away ; 
Vintner, that from his purpled vine 
Crushest for heaven its sacred wine, — 
E'en when the sweetest cup we're quaffing, 
When life within the heart is laughing, 
When our great peace doth seem a river 
That well might fill the full Forever, 
When the rich day makes Hope a debtor, 
And Wish himself can wish no better, 
E'en then thine offices appear 
More worthy welcome than a tear ; 
For well we know our golden hour? 
Are deep indebted to thy powers ; 
No light of life nor smile benign 
But half its luminance is thine ; 



TO DEATH. Ill 

No gift from heaven our hands receive, 
But thou clost help the heavens to give ; 
Thy sateless hunger feeds our bliss ; 
Our sun would pale thy shade to miss. 



112 NOONTIDE. 



NOONTIDE. 

The sun slept o'er the world, 
The light dreamed in the air, 

Like plumes of silence stood the trees, 
Bright calm was everywhere. 

Babe-like the river lay 

Sweet on earth's bosom wide, 

And all the stream of being showed 
No ripple on its tide. 

But in my heart were strife 

And battle's loud uproar, 
And there the angry sea of life 

Beat fiercely on the shore. 

For I had seen the weak, 

Pale victim of the strong; 
And Law, the traitor, blessing loud 

The brazen arm of Wrong. 



NOONTIDE. 113 

And like a little bird 

Whhiwinded through the skies, 
While far below a flowery land 

In peace of summer lies ; 

Thus puny, thus apart 

From that joy-drowsy noon, 
My heart was dizzied, till it deemed 

Each pebble's rest a boon. 

" O Nature ! " now I cried, 

" Receive thy child again : 
In thine eternal stillness hush 

The throbbing of his brain. 

" Make him a part of thee, 

Hid in thy bosom vast, 
All doubt and war, all hope and fear, 

Forever overpast." 

But while I weakly prayed, 

Great Nature, far within, 
With awful voice of silence said, 

" Be still ! Forbear to sin ! 



114 NOONTIDE. 

" Live thou thy life — no less ; 

Live thou thy life — no more ; 
The doing be the deed's success, 

Thy giving be thy store. 

" Quit not thy heart ; than that 
What deadlier ill may be ? 

How should he find who leaves behind 
The gem he looks to see ? 

" For in thine ample breast 
Are heaven and earth and air ; 

All Nature's largeness, snreness, rest, 
Her height and depth, are there. 

" Sink, sink into thy soul ! 

Thou'rt lost in me thereby ; 
For I, the stainless, hurtless Whole, 

Thy veriest self am I. 

" In each the boundless x4.ll 

Begins anew to be ; 
And who on his own heart doth fall, 

To my heart cometh he." 



NOONTIDE. 115 

The sun slept o'er the world, 

The light dreamed in the air : 
My spirit, folding up her wings, 

Forgot her heavy care. 

And when about the west 

Day died in holy calm, 
My heart of peace within me woke 

Meek murmurs of a psalm, — 

" Right royally the sun 

Rules o'er his realm of day, 
And royally the stellar thrones 

Sit in their silver sway." 



Jane, 1854. 



116 THE BEVIVAL PREACHER. 



THE REVIVAL PREACHER. 

" The candle of the Lord I must not hide, 

But lift it up, and let it shine afar. 
Oh, how are duty and delight allied ! 

How sweet for Jesus' sake to be a star, 
And in his glory to be glorified ! 

" When from packed floor and gallery, the eyes 
Of awe-struck sinners fix on me their gaze, 

And heaving breasts and starting tears apprise 
My heart that I have given my Saviour praise, 

And — for him only — shine in glorious wise, 

" How poor, how insignificant, seem then 
The honors of this world, by many sought ! 

How dull the splendors of mere worldly men ! 

Cheap, farthing rushlights ! Cheap, but clearly 
bought, 

Ne'er shall they win my heart's desire again. 



THE REVIVAL PBEACHEE. 117 

"For once /sat in darkness, and held dear 

The faint and flickering lights of earthly fame ; 

But grace was given me to despise whate'er 
Worldly ambition seeks in place or name, — 

Grace to win fame for heaven, then find it here. 

" Lord, glorify thyself 'mongst men by me ; 

Be flame upon my lips to search and shine ; 
When I stand up before men, let them see 

That thou art with me, and my word is thine ; 
Oh, make me eminent for piety ! 

" Why should the children of this world have power 
To charm the multitude and win applause, 

While those that are thy very grace in flower 

Speak as with stammering tongue, to shame thy 
cause ? 

Exalt thy servants in thy chosen hour ! 

" Yea, lift me up ! My glory, see, 'tis thine ; 

And souls in multitudes shall crowd the gate 
Of thine eternal city, and combine 

In praise, thy word of power to celebrate, 
That, from my lips proceeding, is not mine." 



118 NATURE'S TUNE. 



NATURE'S TUNE. 

Tune of the heart of Nature, 

Say, is thy cheer so brave, — 
Cheer for every creature, 

Cheer for cradle and grave ? 
Down from the vaulted azure, 

Up from the bosom of earth, 
Rolling in jubilant measure, 

Go the great harmonies forth 
Say, is the mighty rejoicing 

Nature's for Nature alone, 
Coldly a victory voicing 

That is only her own ? 



TO . 119 



TO 



A great light glowing into life, 

A great warmth conquering in the breast, 
A great joy drowning care and strife, 

A great pang shading into rest. 

And what is this that doth remain, 
Large, sweet, and luminous and sure ? 

A joy by joy begot through pain, — 

Through pain immortal made, and pure. 



120 MAY. 



MAY. 

The green blades are springing, 

The glad birds are singing, 
The sunlight is laughing o'er forest and lea ; 

And the heart in my bosom 

Expands in each blossom, 
It grows in the grass, and it sings from the tree. 

Is it true, the sweet feeling 

Through every vein stealing? 
Am I there, do I live in the breath of the spring? 

In the many-voiced carol 

And the sward's green apparel ? 
In the far-flying shine is my soul on the wing ? 

Life ! many-sided, 
But never divided, 

Here hid in a bud, there bright in the sun, 

1 live in thy flowing : 

Thy thought is my knowing : 
The blossom, the bird, and my heart, the} r are one. 



THE SUN. 121 



THE SUN. 



Resplendent lyrist of the sky, 

True worshipper of thine am I : 

And often when th' inspired East, 

With radiant forehead, sacred priest, 

Proclaims thy coming ; or the West, 

In robes of gold and purple dressed, 

Receives thee at his doors a guest, 

My head will bow, my heart will burn 

With might; with might my spirit j^earn. 

A solemn joy, a blessed fear, 

All tides of heavenly air and cheer, 

Through my flooded bosom run, 

And sing thy claim, O living Sun ! 

Adoring, I thy godhead see ; 

Adoring, list thy melody, 

That, sounding far beyond our sphere, 

Filleth with marvel all the year. 

Nor listen I nor bow alone ; 

All worthy hearts the wonder own : 

In every time, on every shore, 

As in child-hearted Greece of yore, 



122 THE SUN. 

Confession that our lips withhold, 
By franker heart and eye is told. 
" Thou art a god ! " all bosoms cry : 
Lip-echo of these hearts am I. 

Earth and man's nature are thy lyre ; 
And when with hand of golden fire 
Thou sweepest it, O bard divine ! 
Out leap the grass-blades, notes of thine ; 
The towering trees and clustering groves, 
The birds that in them sing their loves ; 
All flowers that bloom, all buds that swell ; 
These tongues that do the story tell 
Of nature's vernal miracle. 
These are thy music, echoing sweet 
Where'er in all worlds light and heat, 
With water, earth, and ether meet. 
Life is their art, whose mighty span 
Reaches from weeds to thinking man ; 
Bloom of the rose, or maiden's cheek, 
Light of the heavens, or eyes that speak. 
The sparrows pipe Beethoven's tune, 
The evening and the morning's rune. 
All forms, all beauty, all desire, 
Are echoes of thy thrilling lyre. 



GEORDIE NATUS. 123 



GEORDIE NATUS, AUG. 27, 1855. 

Ye beams of light, dear angels bright, 
Whose blessed wings reach every door, 

Entreat me fair, my message bear 

To him, whose heart mine hovers o'er. 

The journey wide my love shall guide ; 

My love unerring knows the way, — 
The airy road has often trod, 

Alone with God, by night or day. 

Askest, bright ray, what thou shalt say 
To him, my sweet, my cherub, there ? 

Ah ! words are vain, they strive amain, 
But not attain to speak my prayer. 

Ask thou of God, and bear abroad 
To my small saint his word divine : 

He knows my heart, and shall impart, 
Beyond word's art, his wish — and mine. 

Aug. 27, 1857. 



124 ALL'S WELL. 



ALL'S WELL. 

Sweet-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse 

Foretold not half life's good to me : 
Thy painter, Fancy, hath not force 
To show how sweet it is to be ! 

Thy witching dream 

And pictured scheme 
To match the fact still want the power : 

Thy promise brave 

From birth to grave 
Life's boon may beggar in an hour. 

Ask and receive, — 'tis sweetly said : 
Yet what to plead for, know I not ; 
For Wish is worsted, Hope o'ersped, 
And aye to thanks returns my thought. 

If I would pray, 

I've naught to say 
But this, that God may be God still ; 

For him to live 

Is still to give, 
And sweeter than my wish his will. 



ALL'S WELL. 125 

wealth of life beyond all bound ! 
Eternity each moment given ! 

What plummet may the Present sound ? 
Who promises a future heaven ? 

Or glad, or grieved, 

Oppressed, relieved, 
In blackest night, or brightest day, 

Still pours the flood 

Of golden good, 
And more than heartfull fills me aye. 

My wealth is common ; I possess 

No petty province, but the whole : 
What's mine alone is mine far less 
Than treasure shared by every soul. 

Talk not of store, 

Millions or more, — 
Of values which the purse may hold, — 

But this divine ! 

I own the mine 
Whose grains outweigh a planet's gold. 

1 have a stake in every star, 

In every beam that fills the day ; 
All hearts of men my coffers are, 
My ores arterial tides convey ; 



126 ALL'S WELL. 

The fields, the skies, 

And sweet replies 
Of thought to thought are my gold-dust, 

The oaks, the brooks, 

And speaking looks 
Of lovers' faith and friendship's trust. 

Life's youngest tides joy-brimming flow 

For him who lives above all years, 
Who all-immortal makes the Now, 

And is not ta'en in Time's arrears: 

His life's a hymn 

The seraphim 
Might hark to hear or help to sing, 

And to his soul 

The boundless whole 
Its bounty all doth daily bring. 

" All mine is thine," the sky-soul saith ; 

" The wealth I am, must thou become : 
Richer and richer, breath by breath, — 
Immortal gain, immortal room ! " 
And since all his 
Mine also is, 



ALL'S WELL. 127 

Life's gift outruns my fancies far, 

And drowns the dream 

In larger stream, 
As morning drinks the morning-star. 



Worcester, 1857. 



128 JOY-MONTH. 



JOY-MONTH. 

Oh, hark to the brown thrush ! hear how he sings ! 

How he pours the dear pain of his gladness ! 
What a gush ! and from out what golden springs ! 

What a rage of how sweet madness ! 

And golden the buttercup blooms by the way, 

A song of the joyous ground ; 
While the melody rained from yonder spray 

Is a blossom in fields of sound. 

How glisten the eyes of the happy leaves I 
How whispers each blade, " I am blest ! " 

Rosy Heaven his lips to flowered earth gives, 
With the costliest bliss of his breast. 

Pour, pour of the wine of thy heart, O Nature ! 

By cups of field and of sky, 
By the brimming soul of every creature ! — 

Joy-mad, dear Mother, am I. 



JOY-MONTH. 129 

Tongues, tongues for ray joy, for my joy ! more 
tongues ! — 

Oh, thanks to the thrush on the tree, 
To the sky, and to all earth's blooms and songs ! 

They utter the heart in me. 

Aug. 27, 1858. 



130 SEEN AND UNSEEN. 



SEEN AND UNSEEN. 

The wind ahead, the billows high, 
A whited wave, but sable sky, 
And many a league of tossing sea 
Between the hearts I love and me. 

The wind ahead ; day after day 

These weary words the sailors say : 

To weeks the days are lengthened now, — 

Still mounts the surge to meet our prow. 

Through longing day and lingering night, 
I still accuse Time's lagging flight, 
Or gaze out o'er the envious sea, 
That keeps the hearts I love from me. 

Yet, ah, how shallow is all grief! 
How instant is the deep relief ! 
And what a hypocrite am I, 
To feign forlorn, to 'plain and sigh ! 



SEEN AND UNSEEN. 131 

The wind ahead ? The wind is free ! 
Forever more it favoreth me, — 
To shores of God still blowing fair, 
O'er seas of God my barque doth bear. 

This surging brine I do not sail, 
This blast adverse is not my gale : 
'Tis here I only seem to be, 
But really sail another sea, — 

Another sea, pure sky its waves, 

Whose beauty hides no heaving graves, — 

A sea all haven, whereupon 

No hapless barque to wreck hath gone. 

The winds that o'er my ocean run 
Reach through all heavens beyond the sun ; 
Through life and death, through fate, through time, 
Grand breaths of God, they sweep sublime. 

Eternal trades, they cannot veer, 
And, blowing, teach us how to steer ; 
And well for him whose joy, whose care, 
Is but to keep before them fair. 



132 SEEN AND UNSEEN. 

O thou God's mariner, heart of mine, 
Spread canvas to the airs divine ! 
Spread sail ! and let thy Fortune be 
Forgotten in thy Destiny ! 

For Destiny pursues us well, 

By sea, by land, through heaven or hell : 

It suffers Death alone to die, 

Bids Life all change and chance defy. 

Would earth's dark ocean suck thee down ? 
Earth's ocean thou, O Life ! shalt drown, 
Shalt flood it with thy finer wave, 
And, sepulchred, entomb thy grave ! 

Life loveth life and good : then trust 
What most the spirit would, it must : 
Deep wishes, in the heart that be, 
Are blossoms of Necessity. 

A thread of Law runs through thy prayer, 
Stronger than iron cables are ; 
And Love and Longing toward her goal 
Are pilots sweet to guide the Soul. 



SEEN AND UNSEEN. 133 

So Life must live, and Soul must sail, 
And Unseen over Seen prevail, 
And all God's argosies come to shore, 
Let ocean smile, or rage and roar. 

And so, 'mid storm or calm, my barque 
With snowy wake still nears her mark : 
Cheerly the trades of being blow, 
And sweeping down the wind I go. 

August, 1858. 



134 THE MYSTIC. 



THE MYSTIC. 

3E. — SKnofoletige. 

The Secret of the World is lowly, 
Self-sung nigh my pleading ear ; 

It presses close, enchanting, holy, 
Murmuring, — what, I cannot hear : 

A dream embosoming all my waking, 
Solace shaming all my fear. 

In hours serenest and profoundest, 
List I 'yc-rid- the breadth of time : 

Over the sea of calm Thou soundest; 
Now I catch the tune, the rhyme, 

And now shall know ! — Alas ! the silence 
Ripples, broken ; dies the chime. 

Partial, the universal Mother 

Tells her secret to the stars ; 
And they intone it each to other, 

Trooping in their silver cars. 



THE MYSTIC. 135 

Winging and witching comes the echo, 
But mine ear the meaning bars. 



When the sunlight, aether flooding, 
Rains its richness down the sky, 

The Fact on every beam is brooding, 
And on every leaf an eye 

Implanteth, where the dauntless, dimless, 
Godlike vision I espy. 



The psalmist pine-tree, sounding, sweeping 
One great chord forevermore ; 

Deep-chested Ocean's chant, as, keeping 
Time upon the throbbing shore, 

His billowy palm still falls and rises, — 
Both recount that wondrous lore. 



The World is rich, it hath possession ; 

Joy of wealth fills land and sea ; 
The fields in bloom, the stars in session, 

Birds and blades on bough and lea, 
All know the truth, the joy, the wonder, 

Not revealed to man, to me. 



136 THE MYSTIC. 

Nature, be just in thy bestowing ! 

Best to best shouldst thou confide. 
Oh ! why from him, whose bliss is knowing, 

Knowledge, cruel, dost thou hide ? 
Since, that withholden, naught is given ; 

Given, naught withheld beside. 



THE MYSTIC. 137 



Iff. — £ife. 



A goblet drained is all my knowing, — 
Cup whence I have quaffed the wine : 

From out the Unknown comes the flowing 
And exhaustless juice divine, 

That lends the blood its priceless crimson, 
And the eye its living shine. 

Embrace me, Mystery of Being ; 

Fill my arteries, flood my brain, 
And through me pour thy heart, till seeing, 

Thought, are drowned, like dew in rain, 
In powerful, pure participation: 

Separate life is separate pain. 

Temple unseen of Truth immortal, 

Thought hath brought me to thy door ; 

Never passes he the portal, 

I am drawn the threshold o'er ; 

And lo ! I am a leaf that quivers 
In God's joy-wind evermore ! 



138 THE MYSTIC. 

Now are the light-waves round me rolling, 
Now the love-tides through me run, 

Body and soul anew ensouling : 
Seeing and being melt in one. 

The ear is self-same with the music, 
Beam with vision, eye with sun. 



THE FLOODS. 139 



THE FLOODS. 

[En JHemorg ol 3a\)n iSrobm.] 

Look how a river, brimmed, then heaped yet more, 
Will drown his banks, and flood the regions nigh, 

Spreading, with bounty terrible, the store 
Of melting mountain and dissolving sky. 

So may a soul of power, an Amazon 

Of heavenly purpose, — being o'ergraced with 
good, — 
Break from the banks of prudence, rolling on 

A kingdom's quiet his aggression rude. 

And as, before the unappeased urge 

Of influence hurrying from the heart of heaven, 
He rises, widens 'yond all wonted verge . . . 

Still on . . . o'er hold and hearth of Custom driven, 

We that, mayhap, see Order in the guise 
Of our own safety only, cry, " Behold, 

These forces rude the name of Law despise ; 
They mock it in their foray fierce and bold." 



140 THE FLOODS. 

Hidden from timid eyes the truth will be ! 

For lo ! the deluge, too, is Order's child ; 
Its waters hasten but from sky to sea ; 

And, though we citizens may deem them wild, 

They journey as they must, — while straying, still 
Chasing their lawful channel where it goes, 

Nor wid'ning but by affluence of that Will, 
Which out of heaven beyond containing flows. 

And when, at length, their swelling tides are gone, 
The plain lies higher ; and the fertile shore 

Is farther stretched by that alluvion, 

Whose wealth the deluge in its bosom bore. 

Oh ! from earth's history were the floods away, 
Not well had ripened here the cosmic plan ; 

For many a happy harvester to-day 

Gathers in golden corn their gifts to man. 



And from the record of man's deed and thought 
Were razed out that deluge-height of soul, 

Which makes the fo untamed bosom all too fraught 
To yield effect by nice and legal dole, — 



THE FLOODS. 141 

Sure, men would hiss their drawling destinies, 

And hist'ry creep, as 'twere, through cowherd lanes. 

Deep ran the plough where high the harvest is : 
The man-child breathes but by a mother's pains. 

1858 (?). 



142 VOLUNTEER SONG. 



VOLUNTEER SONG. 

Enscrtbco to tfjc £fajcntg=6£tl) Kcgimmt, IH.F. 

Lo ! God and the star-banner o'er us, 

And the foes of them both before us ! 

Each drop of our blood is due Freedom and Right, 

And the debt we will own on the red field of fight. 

To our veins does Liberty lend it, 

And 'tis hers to spare or to spend it. 

And where is the caitiff, the craven, 

Who, moored in Liberty's haven, 

Her peril prays not to assume for his own, 

Nor would shame to be safe, and she overthrown ? 

If Freedom must die, then dying 

Is the bliss for which we are sighing. 

If Freedom must perish, each breath is 

More woe than ever in death is ; 

But if Liberty, Law, and the Rights of the Race 

Are enthroned in the end, that joy will efface, 



VOLUNTEER SONG. 143 

Will turn to delight, all the sorrow 
From the fate of to-day we can borrow. 

The flag that our fathers uplifted, 

The heart of two hemispheres gifted 

With a heaven of hope ; and the joy that they gave 

Shall their sons, all degen'rate, but dig it a grave ? 

Shall the eyes grow dim that had brightened, 

And leaden the hearts that were lightened? 



No : knees do not tremble and falter, 

That have knelt at Liberty's altar. 

If a faith to believe and a courage to dare, 

The hope of the world make us worthy to bear, 

Then the work to the workman is fitted, 

And the trust to true hands committed. 



Yea, America's sons will forever 

To her destiny pay their endeavor : 

To her call full oft they have answered in words, 

And now will respond with the steel of their swords, 

So clashing a prayer up to heaven 

That Justice on earth may be given. 



144 VOLUNTEER SONG. 

Right bravely our foemen can hate us — 

Let us see if in battle they mate us. 

Hard hands to hard hearts toiling freemen oppose, 

And the lack of base hate they will make up in 

blows ; 
And blows be the only favors 
We pray of the pirate enslavers ! 

All laws under foot they have trampled, 

And the sin of all time they have ampled : 

They have loaded our land with the woes of the 

slave ; 
They have murdered our men, and denied them a 

grave ; 
Our women have robbed, set in prison, 
And now in mad arms thev have risen. 



And we swear, by the Heaven above us, 

By the hearts of the women that love us, 

By the babes at our hearths, by our own right 

hand, 
From the rule of the brute we will succor the land, 
To Justice will give due dominion, 
To her foes due halter and pinion. 



VOLUNTEER SONG. 145 

The right shall prevail, — Ave have said it ! 

We have marked out our path, and we'll tread it : 

And the will of true men by no fate can he crossed ; 

Their blood may be spilled, but can never be lost. 

All the sweet veins of Nature conserve it, 

And they're victors at last who deserve it. 

Worcester, 1862. 



146 TO GENERAL 



TO GENERAL . 

[Upon his declaration at a public meeting in New York that the 
rebellion must be subdued, though it should cost the nation its last 
dollar and last drop of blood.] 

Weakling, be silent ! Silence was thine art, 
Thy trap to catch men's worship, when the State 
Fancied thy words so few because so great, 

So seeded with effect, thy mind and heart. 

Nor yet did word of brave rebuking start 

From out those lips when traitors, thy false fame 
Procuring, gilded treason with thy name, 

And from thy fustian riches stocked their mart. 
Oh ! thou couldst let them king thee, tho' thy 
throne 

Must be the altar whereon Freedom died ; 

But now, their bubble burst, and burst thine own, 

That silence ends. Nay, keep it ! Long it lied, 
Deceiving most : now let it, to atone, 

Thy bloated littleness confess and hide. 

May 8, 1863. 



IN MEMORY OF BR. S. F. HAVEN. 147 



IN MEMORY OF DR. S. F. HAVEN, 

Of Worcester, Mass., Surgeon of the Fifteenth Massachu- 
setts Regiment Volunteers, who fell at Fredericksburg, 
Dec. 13, 1862. 

With skilful hand he turned away 

Death's wishful hand from wounded men ; 

But when was done that doleful day, 
The living laid him with the slain. 

Thy hurt to heal, O native land ! 

What mortal might, he did and dared ; 
And when the service of his hand 

Seemed not enough, his heart he bared, 

And laid his life upon the hurt, 
By losing all to make thee whole, 

But could not lose his high desert, 
And place on memory's record-roll ; 

And when that sacred roll she calls, 

The word, perchance, will reach his ear, 

And he shall from th' eternal halls, 

Among God's angels, answer, " Here ! " 



148 IN MEMORY OF DR. S. F. HAVEN. 

We will not say his life was brief, 
For noble death is length of days : 

The sun that ripens autumn's sheaf 
Has poured a summer wealth of rays. 

Worcester, December, 1862. 



IDEALS. 149 



IDEALS. 

Angels of Growth, of old in that surprise 
Of your first vision, wild and sweet, 

I poured in passionate sighs 

My wish unwise 
That ye descend my heart to meet, — 

My heart so slow to rise ! 

Now thus I pray : Angelic be to hold 
In heaven your shining poise afar, 

And to my wishes bold, 

Reply with cold 
Sweet invitation, like a star 

Fixed in the heavens old. 

Did ye descend, what were ye more than I ? 
Is't not by this ye are divine, 

That, native to the sky, 

Ye cannot hie 
Downward, and give low hearts the wine 

That should reward the high ? 



150 IDEALS. 

Weak, yet, in weakness I no more complain 
Of your abiding in your places ; 

Oh ! still, howe'er my pain 

Wild prayers may rain, 
Keep pure on high the perfect graces, 

That stooping could but stain. 

Not to content our lowness, but to lure 
And lift us to your angelhood, 

Do your surprises pure, 

Dawn far and sure 
Above the tumult of young blood, 

And starlike there endure. 

Wait there, wait and invite me while I climb, 
For see, I come ! — but slow, but slow ! 

Yet ever as your chime, 

Soft and sublime, 
Lifts at my feet, they move, they go 

Up- the great stair of time. 
ism. 



THE PLOVER. 151 



THE PLOVER. 

I. 

Woe to the winging plover ! 

Flames from an idle gun 
Flash, and her flight is over, — 

Flight and life in one. 

Swallows yet dart and hover, 

Thinning the insect host ; 
Bees on the purple clover 

Levy their sweet impost ; 
Bobolinks, briefly flying, 

Warble while on the wing ; 
Mowers, manfully plying 

Arms with a rhythmic swing, 
Smile when the troller rollick 

Bards it away so blithe, 
Or his aery frolic 

Drown with the whetted scythe 



152 THE PLOVER. 

Rills, in melody running, 

Silver the solar ray ; 
Age, its gray life sunning, 

Purls of the balmy day ; 
Youths, on the river rowing, 

Path it with fading foam ; 
Maids on the tide are strowing 

Leaves, that, adrift, become 
Barques of the tine romances 

Writ in their dreamful eyes, 
Barques for their faery fancies, 

Freighted with sweet surmise. 

Fluttering falls the plover, 

Flutter and life soon over. 

Earth recks not of its death, 

Bates not her joyous breath : 

Still the virgin's face all its blooming hath ; 

All its bliss, the eye of her lover. 



THE PLOVER. 153 



Deemed you the sun, in shining, 

Shinecl for the living alone ? 
Deemed of the dead as resigning 

Love's and Laughter's tone ? 
Banish the thought that grieveth 

Sorely thy sighful breast : 
Banish, for it bereaveth 

Ever thy soul of rest. 
Life his dwelling leaveth 

But as a bird its nest, — 
But as a bird, that, soaring, 

Flees from the winter's cold, 
Surely and swiftly oaring 

Way to a bloomy hold. 
Self-same sun above him, 

Groves and green beneath, 
Sweet bird-hearts to love him, 

Sweet old songs to breathe, 
Blest by dew and dawning, 

Fanned by the zephyr's play, 
Hid by the leafy awning 

All the hot mid-day. 



154 THE PLOVER. 

Fluttering fell the plover, 

Flutter and life soon over : 

But, in the evening calm. 

Fell on my heart, as balm. 

A breathing of bliss, an unsyllabled psalm, 

That in words I would thus recover. 



SCIPIO TO THE SENATE. 155 



SCIPIO TO THE SENATE. 

[Sci2)io the Great, when his brother was accused of peculation, 
with some suspicion of his own complicity, tore in pieces the 
accounts, which he held in his hand, aud flung them down in the 
face of the Senate, refusing to put his honor in question.] 

Questioned in trust and honor, I could speak, 
Nor aught that honor might disclose would spare ; 

Questioned in doubt, — excusing words were weak 
And coward breaths, to shame their kindred air. 

Ye that can doubt me, pass in silence by ; 

Bury my name, nor greet me with a word ! 
My truth is deaf to challenge of a lie : 

Not with that champion does it cross the sword. 

Have I, then, walked among you all these years 

A dubious phantom, true or false unknown ? 
And } T e, forsooth, would have to lay your fears, 
My doubted faith by proof of parchment shown ? 



156 SCIPIO TO THE SENATE. 

Never from me ! I tear the proofs to shreds, 
And strow them here upon the senate floor ; 

Ye that know not a man, go make your beds 

Upon your thorniest thoughts : vex me no more. 

Oh ! ye could trust me in your hour of need, 
When the grim foe was menacing your gates ; 

But saved your shrewd suspicion for my meed 
When I had made you masters of your fates ! 

Asked ye for parchments when the power of Rome 
To foreign shores I led in stern array ? 

Called ye for parchments when, returning home, 
I brought you victory, beauteous as the day ? 

Your fate, as my sword's hilt, Avas in my hand : 
I came a conqueror, but bent the knee, 

By faith subdued, and lowly to my land 

Gave that in power that came in want to me. 

And now in power behold ye come to say, 

" Hast thou not filched our coins ? Speak, give us 
proof ! " 

Nay, pawn your doubt to win another ; play 
Your game of question : proud, I stand aloof. 



SCIPIO TO THE SENATE. 157 

There ! gather up these fragments, if ye will, 

And mouse among them, pore, compare, and scan. 

When of that labor ye have had your fill, 
Go learn the art of arts, to know a Man ! 

1867. 



158 TIME. 



TIME. 

2 — JFrom Scioto. 

" I have a tyrant-master, Time, 

Whose small apprentice I am bound : 
To each desire of his must rhyme 

My ceaseless duty in servile round. 
Two haughty officers, Night and Day, 
Still whip and wind me every way : 
Were Destiny my better friend, 
This hard apprenticeship had end ! " 

Sff.—iFrom &botoe. 

" There is a shadowy weaver, Time, 

Thwarting his threads below me far : 

With lidless eye, from height sublime, 
I look upon him, like a star, 

But dwell in calm, cerulean sky, 

Above that region where his ply 

Makes changing season and chequered year, 

Eternity my mansion here ! " 

1S69. 



TO W. L. G. 159 



TO W. L. G. 

Thou who art ours and all men's friend, 

Whom Nature gave to be and spend 

Her dearest treasure, love and truth, 

And justice joined with tender ruth, 

When now returns thy natal day, 

What for thee should our wishes pray? 

What wish we for the silver star 

Whose beam doth kiss our eyes from far ? 

Enough for it a star to be, 

Enough for us its light to see. 

What wish we for the breathing rose, 

That, filled with grace and sweetness blows, 

And its fair petals spreads about 

To let the fragrant spirit out? 

Its being is its blessing best ; 

And we in it are also blest, 

If often we may hither come 

To taste its fragrance, see its bloom. 



160 TO W. L. G. 

O friend ! we wish thee naught to-day, 
Thy presence takes the power away ; 
And joyous while that grace is lent, 
We hail the hour, and are content. 

Jan. 21, 1884. 



NOTES. 



[The dates of the poems have been given when known, aud in a few instances 
when the subject made the time of the occurrence evident and important. J 

Babes of God. 

In one instance a line was so obviously defective, that 
with great reluctance I have supplied a word. It stands 
in Mr. Wasson's version, — 

" In that, most presence — joy to see." 

"That" is crossed. In restoring "that," and adding 
an adjective, I am not sure of having given his meaning, 
but I have made it possible to read. 

Sonnets on Fremont. 

These were undoubtedly written soon after Fremont 
issued his famous proclamation of emancipation, Aug. 
31, 1861. 

Sonnets on G. L. Stearns. 

George L. Stearns, born in Medford, Mass., about 
1812 ; died in New York, April 9, 18G7. He first came 
prominently to public notice in 1856, when he was in 

161 



162 NOTES. 

active business, with a large income, which he devoted 
liberally to the service of freedom. He was chairman of 
the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee from July, 
1856, till that organization dissolved. While holding this 
position, he won the friendship of John Brown, the 
Kansas hero. At the funeral of Major Stearns in Med- 
ford, April 14, 1867, Mr. Emerson said, " Capt. John 
Brown was not only an extraordinary man, but one who 
had a rare magnetism for men of character, and attached 
some of the best and noblest to him by lasting ties. Mr. 
Stearns made himself at once necessary to Capt. Brown, 
as one who respected his inspirations, and had the mag- 
nanimity to trust him entirely, and to arm his hands with 
all needed help." His connection with this famous man 
was every way honorable to both ; and, after Brown's 
execution, Mr. Stearns devoted himself more directly to 
the emancipation and elevation of the slaves in the civil 
war, which soon followed. In 1863 he began to enlist 
colored soldiers for the Union armies, and in this service 
received from Secretary Stanton the military rank of 
major, by which he was afterwards generally known. He 
enlisted more soldiers of this class than any other person, 
and gave thousands of dollars to the national cause. Of 
his sudden death, Emerson said, "It is sad that such a 
life should end prematurely ; but when I consider that he 
lived long enough to see with his own eyes the salvation 
of his countiy, to which he had given all his heart ; that 



NOTES. 163 

he did not know an idle day ; was never called to suffer 

under the decay and loss of his powers, or to see that 

others were waiting for his place and privilege, but lived 

while he lived, and beheld his work prosper for the joy 

and benefit of all mankind, — I count him happy among 

men." 

Mr. Stearns married Mary Preston, a niece of Rev. 

Dr. Francis ; and they lived with simple and generous 

hospitality at their villa in Medford, where Mr. Wasson 

was for a long time their guest. His son, Francis Preston 

Stearns, has placed a headstone over the grave of Mr. 

Wasson, at Concord ; thus perpetuating the friendship of 

his family for our poet and thinker. 

F. B. S. 

Sonnet to Fifty-fourth Regiment of Massachusetts 
Volunteers. 

This was the first Massachusetts colored regiment 
raised by Gov. Andrew, and commanded by Col. Robert 
G-. Shaw. Its heroic record answered to this appeal, and 
filled the " heavens with rejoicing," even though the 
young hero lay buried " with his niggers," noblest of 
guards, about him. 

All's Well. 

This exquisite lyric expresses the triumph of the soul, 
re-acting from the most intense suffering; and weakness. 



164 NOTES. 

The first word was sometimes written "triumphant" or 
" prophetic ; " but I have preferred what I believe to be 
the original reading, which Mr. Wasson retained in print- 
ing it, first in "The Atlantic Monthly," and afterwards 
in "The Radical." 

Seen and Unseen. 

Written at sea, fifty days out, twelve hundred miles 
from the American shore. The long, tedious voyage, 
without the hoped-for benefit to his health, could not 
darken his hope and faith. Like the nightingale, his song 
gushed forth as the shadows gathered about him. 

Time. 

These couplets were printed at the end of a short but 
very beautiful essay in "The Radical," called "At Full 
Speed." 

Sonnets to Andkew Johnson. 

These sonnets well express the generous trust, and yet 
trembling hope, with which the noblest of the nation 
greeted Johnson, when he was so unexpectedly raised to 
the presidency by the murder of Lincoln. 

Mr. Wasson felt the disappointment of his hope very 
bitterly, and preached a very severe sermon on the con- 
duct of the President. 



NOTES. 165 

To Irish-born Americans. 

Mr. "Wasson was very much excited by the atrocious 
murders iu Ireland at this time, and spoke strongly as he 
felt. 

Phcebus-Carlyle. 

This is evidently an early poem. " Sartor Resartus " 
fell into Mr. Wasson's hands when he was a student in 
Maine, and made a profound impression upon him. 

JOY-MONTH. 

This sweet little poem was written at sea on his boy's 
birthday, from recollection of a June morning. 



